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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208939">the pathless woods</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium'>Deisderium</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Captain America (Movies)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(Not) Another Stucky Big Bang 2020, Also canon-typical, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Big ass trees, Canon-Typical Violence, Deer, Explicit Sexual Content, Fake Marriage, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Magic, Megaflora, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Ranger Bucky Barnes, Scribe Steve Rogers, Shapeshifting, Surprise Cryptids, Tender Forest Blowjobs, The Forest glows, There Was Only One Bed(roll), megafauna</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 18:47:02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>84,199</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27208939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve is an orphan training as a scribe in a town on the edge of a magical forest. He doesn’t know why Lord Pierce thinks he can obtain an antler from one of the magical deer that live in the forest, but Pierce offers to pay off all of his debts if he does. Bucky is a ranger, one of a long line of a family who specializes in bringing back rare, dangerous, and magical things out of the forest to sell to the wider world. He won’t let his best friend travel alone through a place with so many dangers.</p><p>But when Steve and Bucky spend the first night in the woods, Steve wakes up a foot taller, a lot heavier, healthier than he’s ever been, and gently glowing in the night. As they get further into the forest, Steve wants to solve the mystery of who he is as well as find what Pierce wants. Bucky just wants to protect the friend he’s always had feelings for.</p><p>When they come across family Steve didn’t know he had; to keep them from throwing Bucky into the deep woods by himself, Steve has to pretend he and Bucky are in a relationship. What Pierce wants conflicts with what Steve’s family wants, and somehow, Steve has to reconcile his old world and his new—and the conflicting feelings he has for his best friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>283</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>281</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Not Another Stucky Big Bang 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. one</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hello, and welcome to the magical glowing forest! I am so excited about sharing this fantasy AU. There will be 10 chapters, posting every other day &lt;3 </p><p>A thousand thank yous to my artists, <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_genderman/pseuds/the_genderman">the_genderman</a> and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatthefoucault/pseuds/whatthefoucault">whatthefoucault.</a> I was and remain so excited that you chose this story, and I can't begin to say how delightful it's been to watch the art come to life. AMAZING!! That's real-life magic. &lt;3 &lt;3 &lt;3 </p><p>2020 has seemed 30 decades long at least SO FAR, and I am really grateful to the community of folks who have participated in (N)ASBB and cheered each other on, and sprinted together and just been overall supportive and delightful. Thank you all for making this special. And to my fellow mods--thank you for everything you've done to take this from idea to reality. I'm so happy to have been a part of this with you. &lt;3</p>
    </blockquote><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Steve is made an offer he can't refuse and Bucky's attempt to help runs into Steve's Steve-ness.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  
</p><p>“There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,<br/>
There is a rapture on the lonely shore.”</p><p>― Lord Byron, <em>Childe Harold's Pilgrimage</em></p><p> </p><p>There's a land, far away, off any maps that you might know, where the tide that beats on the shores of the world isn't water, but trees; where the land slopes down and the trees get bigger the farther you go away from the shore. In the trees, there are mysteries; animals bigger than any you'd see in the sunlit lands, shadows that move by themselves, plants that give you visions of the future, or that can kill you in your sleep.</p><p>The cities in the middle of the sunlit lands, safe from monsters and magic. But by the shores, there are smaller towns and villages where someone bold might make a living by hunting in the shallows of the forest, skirting the deep forest to harvest what floats up from the deep.</p><p>Many people live their lives on the edges of the forest believing that they are safe from what lurks within, that things are always as they seem; but even those who explore the deeps can be surprised by what the forest turns up.</p><p>People have tried to tame the forest, but it never works; while some of the land in the shallows has been tamed by ambitious wizards, most of those who try run aground on their ambitions and are never seen outside the forest again.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>The water clock over the mantel drips out a steady metronome beat as Steve finishes the fair copy of the document that Lord Pierce had brought to him. The man has his own secretary, of course—secretaries, plural, probably—and yet he insists on coming here, to the scribes' guild office and hiring Steve, a journeyman scribe.</p><p>They're strange documents Pierce brings him; always histories of the forest—or, more specifically, of the man who wrested the lands the town was built on away from the forest. Pierce always brings in the same kind of manuscripts—historical documents dating back to when Lord Schmidt set out for his conquest of the forest. Lord Schmidt is better known these days as the Red Skull, the man who fought the forest and won—for a time. Steve can't argue that he doesn't benefit from what Schmidt did; the town wouldn't exist if Schmidt hadn't thought to claim parts of the forest. But the more Steve reads about him, the less and less he likes his methods, and the more he thinks maybe the town could've just been built on the edge of wherever the forest ended.</p><p>Steve knows that he's biased in part by his friendship with Bucky; Bucky brings a lot of things out of the forest, and has told Steve many tales about the wonders he's seen there, and while some of it is undeniably weird, Steve doesn't think that any of it is actually evil, and it's frankly a little disturbing to read works about a man who was so determined to completely destroy the forest and all the creatures in it. In the end, he hadn't been successful. He had clawed out some of the land for the town, but he had tried to conquer the heart of the forest, and on his last expedition, he had disappeared—killed, one could assume, by the creatures he had set out to eradicate.</p><p>Steve thinks it was probably a fitting end. The manuscripts that Pierce always brings Steve to copy speak of the man in admiring tones, but there's also a lot about taking the magic of the forest and taming it for human use, and using it to create a perfect human. Steve doesn't know exactly what the Red Skull meant by that, and the manuscripts don't exactly spell it out, but Steve is quite certain that whoever it might be, it wouldn't be him.</p><p>Steve is shorter than most people, scrawnier than most people, and possessed of the kind of chronic ill health that means that he's spent more time sick than healthy, if he thinks about it. Steve has often wondered if Pierce constantly bringing him these manuscripts is some kind of message about his overall fitness—but surely, no one would waste that much money patronizing a scribe they don't need just to reinforce his negative self-image. Whatever the reason, Steve's is certain there's a method to the fact that Pierce only ever brings him this kind of document.</p><p>Steve only hopes that Pierce is by himself today and unaccompanied by his toadying sidekick, Zola. Steve's not certain what, exactly, Zola's position is in Pierce's household. He's not a noble himself, that much Steve knows. But he's not a servant, either—or at least, he doesn't act like one. Steve can't explain the way he acts, only that he stares at Steve himself, not even bothering to pretend to hide behind his spectacles, like Steve is something he's greedy for. It's not attraction, of that, Steve's certain; he's seen the way people look at Bucky, and this is nothing like that. He looks at Steve like he's something he wants to own, and it never fails to send a shudder running down Steve's spine.</p><p>Steve just wishes he knew why Pierce comes to him in the first place.</p><p>It doesn't make any sense. Steve might think that Pierce was exercising economy, for Steve's work is as good as a master scribe's, and yet so far he can only charge a journeyman's wages, with a large percentage going to the guild fees, and the fees he shall pay until he reaches his mastery and can open his own shop or work for a private patron; but until he pays off his apprentice debt, that title won't be his. He might have done it, a year ago—but then his mother, Sarah, fell ill. Her own healer's gift wasn't strong enough to save herself, and the cost of her medicines along with Steve’s, since Steve has always been sickly, nibbled at the edges of their savings until the edges were all gone, and then the cost of her funeral expenses ate the rest in one great gulp.</p><p>If it hadn't been for the Barneses—if it hadn't been for <em>Bucky…</em></p><p>It's been five years. He should have made master three years gone at the latest, but he never makes enough to save up for the cost of the mastery—and why should he? His tithe to the guild will be much less once he's got his own place than what the guild makes off him now. It wasn't always this way; Master Erskine had been kind, and a good master. But he'd been called away to the city, and the master who'd replaced him, Master Ross, was inclined to treat Steve as a resource to be squeezed, not a talent to be nurtured.</p><p>Regardless, Pierce has scribes on his staff who are doubtless salaried and so there's no sense in his spending extra coin, even if it’s a bargain on a journeyman with a hand as fair as a master's. Steve's done something else to garner his interest, even if he doesn't know what. He wishes he did, so he could stop doing it; in his experience, it's best not to attract the interest of the nobility.</p><p>He carefully inks the last line in a neat, looping curve and crosses the final Ts. He scans the lines carefully, making sure there are no errors, because he doesn't want to have to redo the whole thing. But he was careful, and the copy is exact. He nods in satisfaction, then carefully sprinkles sand over the wet ink to dry it. Pierce is not due to pick it up till the end of the day, but he has a habit of showing up early, and Steve’s found it best to be finished well ahead of time.</p><p>He has other assignments as well, letters written for those who aren't confident in their writing, copies of documents to be sent to the city that must be typeset (a tedious task that Steve tries to make himself think of as a puzzle to be solved,) a love letter for someone who wants to impress the object of his devotion with not only his words, but little illuminated letters and small illustrations to make the presentation more pleasing. It's the kind of work Steve greatly enjoys, a little art to make the text even prettier. One day, when he's a master, he hopes to have more such jobs. He's heard that there are better presses in the City, more technique to be made with printed illustration.</p><p>One day, he'd like to see it.</p><p>But at the end of the day, he's ready to leave, ready to uncramp his fingers and rest his eyes against the strain. He dreams, too, of a well-lit studio, and maybe some magnifying spectacles for fine detail work, but as things are now, he might as well wish on the moon.</p><p>For once, Pierce didn't come early, and Steve is about to turn the shingle in the window and lock up when Pierce comes breezing in—alone, thankfully. Steve has already wrapped the papers in muslin and set them carefully in the thick leather folder Pierce uses to shuttle his documents back and forth, so when the bell above the door rings one final time, he's already gathering them to place on the polished wood of the counter.</p><p>Pierce takes the folder and pages through it, humming in satisfaction at the quality of the work. Steve watches him, wondering again what he did to draw his attention in the first place. He's an older man, and not always in town, having a house in the capital city as well. The old king recently died, and the new king is still finding his feet, advised by a council of nobles that could, in Steve's opinion, serve to have some balance by a council of poor people, but sadly, no one's asking him. Steve doesn’t know how much power Pierce really wields, but it’s been a tumultuous few years for the kingdom, with not only the old king dying, but several advisors. Not that it affects things in Trowburne much, honestly; Steve doesn’t remember how long it’s been since a king came to the forest’s edge, but the answer would be counted in generations, not years. Trowburne’s only claim to fame in the City would be that Pierce has an estate here.</p><p>Pierce isn't much taller than Steve himself, and Steve is short, but Pierce's body has the soft smoothness of someone who's never had to worry about where a meal would come from. His hair is pale gold shot through with white, and his blue eyes look slightly faded from decades of looking at the peons around him and wondering how he might find an advantage off them.</p><p>Most people don't think so—Pierce is largely popular. But there's always been something about him that slides along Steve's nerve endings like a premonition of danger, so Steve has always tried to watch his step.</p><p>"Excellent, as always," Pierce says finally. He looks up then, and his eyes crinkle in a way that Steve feels is meant to look kindly, but to him, looks cold.</p><p>"Thank you, sir," Steve says, choosing as always with Pierce to err on the side of politeness. Pierce hands over the money for the completed job, and watches Steve with a hawklike stare as he counts the coins into the till. Steve wishes he would just go; Steve wants to get to his own home. But instead—</p><p>"I have a proposition for you," Pierce says once the till is locked up once more.</p><p>"Sir?" Steve says. Pierce is well aware of the guild prices for various work, and Steve doesn't have the standing to negotiate. "If it's something outside the scope of our usual jobs, sir, I'm afraid Master Ross is who you'd need to speak with."</p><p>"It isn't that at all," Pierce says with a little disarming laugh. "It's something I think only you can help me with."</p><p>If Steve had hackles, they'd be rising now. He doesn't like this at all. He's not good for much of anything else besides scribing and maybe a bit of art now and then. His body is constantly fighting against him, not wanting to let him breathe or walk or spend an entire season healthy, it seems like. He can't think of a thing that anyone would want from him.</p><p>He must look skeptical, because Pierce laughs. "It's nothing so bad, my boy! An adventure, really."</p><p>"You think <em>I'm</em> suited to adventure?" Steve asks. He means it to come out dry, but he's sure he just sounds disbelieving.</p><p>"For this one?" Pierce pauses theatrically. "There's no one else who can do it."</p><p>Steve wants to tell him to stop trying to sell it to him, but what he says instead is, "What is it?"</p><p>"In the deep forest," Pierce says, "there are deer as white as midwinter snow. In the shadows of the trees, they shine like moonlight. Superstitious peasants tell tales of them, call them phantoms or shades, but no one knows the truth of them. Alchemists and magicians, though, scholars of the unnatural, will tell you that the antlers of the white stag will cure any poison, render any venom harmless. I need an antler from the white deer."</p><p>"Why? Steve says, then adds, "sir," when Pierce gives him a sharp look.</p><p>"I have a daughter," Pierce says. Steve knows; people like to talk about the nobles, and that Pierce has taken in several foster children is well known around Trowburne, although Steve has never seen any of them about town. "She suffers from a wasting illness. My healers tell me her liver has stopped filtering out toxins, and her own body’s waste is poisoning her. She's not in danger of death—yet—but she suffers terribly, and I've exhausted all the other options."</p><p>"But, sir," Steve says, trying to digest this. "I'm not—surely you want to go to the Bar—to a ranger. They go in the forest all the time for just this sort of thing. I'm hardly qualified."</p><p>"I'm afraid rangers fall under the aegis of superstitious peasants about this sort of thing," Pierce says smoothly. "But you're an educated man; you won't listen to that sort of drivel."</p><p>Steve knows that if Bucky and his family won't hunt the white deer, they have a very good reason, and he opens his mouth to say no, but Pierce cuts in. "It's not a favor I expect you to do; you'd be compensated very well for this."</p><p>Pierce names a figure that's high enough to cover his debt to the guild and a mastery fee, along with his rent for months, and enough over for a coach to the City, if he chose to go there. It probably makes his eyes bug out, because it wouldn't exactly make his dreams come true, since many of them can't be bought with coin, but it would get him a lot further along the track he wants to go down, and it would take so many of his burdens right off his shoulders. "I'll settle things with Ross so you can have the time off," Pierce adds carelessly. "And have a pack with enough supplies for a week in the woods delivered to your flat."</p><p>"Sir, that's—quite an incentive," Steve says, almost in a daze at the thought of having so many of his problems so neatly solved. He's still not sure, though, because he doesn't want to do anything that would make it hard to live with himself, and he wonders what it is about these deer that the rangers won't hunt them. Bucky will tell him, he thinks. But if he can help Pierce's daughter, he should.</p><p>"Not quite enough for you, though, is it," Pierce says quietly, and Steve's focus snaps back out of the clouds to this situation he finds himself in. "I know who he is," he adds, and Steve can feel his eyes go wide.</p><p>"He?" he manages.</p><p>"Here's the other prize, if you do this for me." Pierce rolls his shoulders back and picks up his folder full of papers. "Bring me that antler, and I'll tell you who your father was."</p><p>Steve bites his lip. Sarah never told him about his father for years and years, and when she finally decided to try, she was dying, her lungs full of fluid, and she couldn't manage to get a word out, or hold a pen steady in her hand. He'd never known who had left him and Sarah to struggle on their own, who made her look so pensive when he asked about him, or sad when he told her the children at the school teased him about his lack. He'd never known why his father didn't want him.</p><p>"Take the night to think about it," Pierce says. "You can give me an answer tomorrow."</p><p>"I don't need to take it, sir," Steve hears himself say. "I'll do it."</p><p>"Good," Pierce says, pleased, and the danger around him is more evident than ever, but Steve can't make himself care, not when he can help someone—and himself.</p><p>Not with the promise of a future. Not with the promise of answers.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>It's hard to tell the time in the forest, even in the shallows. The canopy high above doesn't let in all that much light, but if you've been there a lot, you get used to the way it filters through the leaves, can tell when the green light starts to take on more gold as the sun sinks.</p><p>Bucky hasn't had the luckiest day, but that's the way it goes in the woods; sometimes he might bring in heaping treasures and have to leave some behind that he can't carry, but today all he's found are some of the huge shelf fungus that people like for both medicine and dye, and four of the violet hares, as big as sheep hounds, whose purple furs will fetch a much higher price than their meat. But he didn't get hurt hunting them, and the furs weren't marred besides the single shots he took to kill them, and while their bodies and the fungus are heavy on the travois behind him, he's nearly home, back to the part of the forest that could nearly be any old trees.</p><p>He's got to unload back at his parents' house, and then he can see Steve.</p><p>If Steve had kept living with the Barneses, he'd get to see Steve every night, but Steve had moved out after only a few months with them into a garret closer to town. It made sense for his work, Bucky supposes, but Bucky had only ever wanted to make things easier for his friend. It wasn't really the convenience of the garret, it was that Steve never wanted to impose.</p><p>Maybe it had been his own fault. He'd never been able to be anything but obvious about how he felt about Steve, and he often wondered if he had put Steve off without knowing it. It could have been, or it could have just been Steve’s insistence that he could do everything on his own.</p><p>Either way, it wouldn't stop him from doing whatever he could to help Steve.</p><p>He comes to the edge of the forest, where the trees are the size of ordinary trees and human feet have tread paths into the undergrowth. He relaxes, though not enough to entirely let down his guard. It's safer here, but it's not <em>safe—</em>sometimes creatures from the deep wash up into the shallows, or break free of the trees entirely. In theory, all of the townspeople of Trowburne come together in that kind of circumstance, but in practice, it's mostly the Barnes and the other rangers who fight them off. There's a town guard, but they're more used to putting people in the drunk tank overnight, or tracking down thieves.</p><p>The light changes as the trees thin, brighter and thicker than it is in the deep woods. Bucky blinks a few times as he steps out into the sunlight and resettles the join of the travois over his shoulders.</p><p>It's not far to his parents' house. The Barnes home has been in their family for generations, the base a two-storey stone cottage that has been expanded on over the years, so that it looks like a strange hodgepodge of extra rooms and outbuildings. There are beds full of herbs and vegetables, some for the kitchen and some that his sister Pru is trying to cultivate from samples brought back from the forest. There's one extravagant bed full of roses that are in full bloom right now—everything seems to be blossoming; it's the glorious part of the spring where everything feels new.</p><p>The Barnes house is on the outskirts of town, the people of Trowburne past having wisely decided to keep their population center a bit further away from where monsters might come up from the deeps, but Bucky likes it that way. He likes being close to the woods. Perhaps it's a bit stupid to say he has an affinity for a place that so often seems to be actively trying to kill him, but he respects the woods' dangers and admires its beauties.</p><p>But for now, he's free of both. He drags his loaded travois to one of the outbuildings, a circular stone tower where the Barnes do most of their processing. It's here that the fungus will be dried to preserve it for shipping to the City or wherever else might have someone in need of it, where his sister Cara and their mother Winifred will skin the hares, tan the furs, and preserve the meat. His father George helps preserve things, too―George and Winifred used to go into the woods also, but as they've gotten older, it's become safer for themto spend less time in the forest and more in the preserving shed. Bucky doesn't envy them the task; he helps out when they need him to, but he'd much rather spend his days roaming the woods than cooped up in the workroom, even with the company of his family.</p><p>He shoves the travois off his shoulders with a groan, then raps on the door. It's far safer to ask permission in case they're in the middle of something delicate than burst in and possibly ruin whatever they're working on—a lesson he'd learned as a child and never needed repeated.</p><p>The door swings open, and his mother smiles at him, the lines around her eye creasing, the sign of a life spent more in laughter than in frowning. "Bucky! I'm glad you're back. What have you brought us today?"</p><p>"Not much," he says ruefully. He unloads the travois, grunting at the weight of each hare as he carries them to a table with nothing on it.</p><p>"Oh," Cara says admiringly. "These are lovely."</p><p>They are, really; their fur is a lustrous gray-purple, like shadows under moonlight, shifting brighter into jewel tones at the points. They'll make some furrier somewhere a pretty penny.</p><p>He carries in the fungus next, great armfuls of it, and his mother and sister gasp with delight. The hares are far lovelier than the fungus, but the fungus is more valuable, and Bucky's brought in a fair amount.</p><p>"Not much," Winifred says mockingly. "This is a treasure, Bucky."</p><p>He shrugs uncomfortably. "I'm going to get cleaned up."</p><p>"Are you seeing Steve tonight?" Cara asks, even though she knows the answer. He sees Steve most nights.</p><p>"Yes," Bucky tells her anyway.</p><p>"There's leftover cottage pie in the icebox that won't keep much longer," Winifred says. "The two of you can eat that tonight."</p><p>"I can pick up something," Bucky protests, more out of habit than out of any real desire to buy street food.</p><p>"I know you can, but this way you don't have to," Winifred says. "Tell him he's welcome for restday supper."</p><p>Steve hasn't missed restday supper at the Barneses' house since Sarah Rogers died, but it's part of the ritual for Winifred to officially invite him, Bucky supposes.</p><p>"I'll tell him," Bucky says, like he always does, but his mother and sister have already turned their attention back to the bounty of the forest, activating one of Becca’s stasis spells over the hares and getting ready to dry out the fungus.</p><p>Bucky leaves the workroom and heads back to the main house, stopping at the pump to wet one of the towels that rests there. He doesn't have time to draw a bath, not if he wants to bring a meal to Steve, but Steve never seems to mind that Bucky comes to him still half-sweaty from the forest. Steve has an inside job that keeps him clean and his hands soft, except for the callus from his pen, though ink- and paint-stained; but that doesn't mean that Bucky needs to come to him begrimed with the dirt of his labors. He strips his shirt and submerges his head in the trough regardless, then suds the wet towel with the soap that Becca makes, and draws it over his face and chest and armpits.</p><p>He rinses himself as best he can, dunks his head one more time to get his face and hair clean, then tosses his head back with a gasp, his wet hair slapping against the line of his spine and sending a spray of drops into the fading light behind him.</p><p>"Buck?"</p><p>The voice comes from the other side of the trough, and every muscle in Bucky's body seems to lock in protest. He doesn't like Steve to see him like this, to be honest; he likes to come to Steve's garret clean and presentable, to pretend to Steve—or at least to himself—that his job, no matter how much he loves it, isn't something rough and tumble, utterly unlike the intellectual work that Steve does all day.</p><p>Bucky wipes himself clean of the trough water as best he can, using the flat of his hand to scrape it away.</p><p>"Steve," he says, like a fool. "What are you doing here? I was coming to you."</p><p>"I don't mean to intrude," Steve says flatly. It seems like he doesn't know where to rest his eyes.</p><p>Bucky curses himself, if only mentally, for looking like a brute in front of Steve. "You aren't. Give me five minutes to get dressed. We can stay here, or go if you like. Ma's given us what's left of a cottage pie."</p><p>"Sounds good. I've got a bottle of cider in the icebox." Steve stares, frowning, at Bucky’s naked torso and the various scars that cover it, and Bucky sighs internally.</p><p>"Just a minute," Bucky says, and walks off, trying to squeeze the excess water out of the tangle of his hair.</p><p>Becca's in the main house, bent over their accounting books instead of working spells in her workroom in the building by the barn, but he only waves hurriedly at her as he rushes to his room. He towels as much of the water as he can out of his hair, and runs a comb through it, then plaits it into a braid and ties it off. Then he rubs the towel over his chest. The waistband of his pants is a little wet, but it'll dry as they walk, so all he has to do is pull on a shirt. He finds the one that he and Pru had practiced their embroidery on last winter, with little roses embroidered around the yoke, and shrugs into it. At least the scarring is covered; he's not embarrassed by it—he’s run into trouble in the wods enough times that he knows he’s lucky to have escaped with only minor injuries—but the scars are ugly and he hates that Steve saw them and frowned.</p><p>He's not exactly vain, but he likes to think that the face reflected back to him in the slightly warped and discolored mirror over his dresser is a good one, with high cheekbones and pale eyes that strike a contrast with his dark hair. He spends most of his time outside working with his body, and as a result, he's muscular, and tall, which is simply luck and genetics. He doesn't think he's hard on the eyes, but the one person he's ever really wanted to look at him like that never has.</p><p>He rubs a hand over his stubbly jaw and thinks about shaving, but decides that he doesn't want to make Steve wait that long, and heads for the door, stopping by the icebox in the kitchen to grab the remainder of the pie. Becca watches him go and shakes her head, half-smiling.</p><p>"You look nice," she calls out to him, and he's horrified to feel himself blush, which only makes her laugh more.</p><p>He steps back into the sun with a feeling of relief. Steve's over by the roses, talking to Pru. Of his sisters, Pru's not the <em>most</em> likely to try to embarrass him (Becca holds that honor,) but nothing's certain. All's fair in love, war, and giving shit to your siblings.</p><p>But when he draws even with them, Pru's only bending Steve's ear about the latest plant from the deep woods that she's trying to cultivate. Bucky's heard it before, but he listens too, until Pru comes to a natural stopping point.</p><p>"I'm stealing Steve," Bucky says.</p><p>"Oh, of course," she says, smiling. "Good to see you, Steve. I'll see you restday?"</p><p>"Wouldn't miss it," Steve says, and then he turns to Bucky, no sign of the frown he wore earlier. "Are you ready?"</p><p>Bucky hefts up the remains of the meat pie in answer and they start walking. The Barneses' house is not quite a mile outside of town, and the first half of the way there's nothing but trees and fields along the side of the road, but as they get closer, the buildings come closer together. They don't go all the way in to the High Street, where the guild's office where Steve works is located; his flat is in the attic of a boarding house in a residential neighborhood some streets away from the town center.</p><p>The whole walk, they chat about inconsequential things. They've never had any trouble holding a conversation with each other, and Steve tells Bucky about his day and Bucky tells Steve about the hares and the fungus, but Bucky can tell that there's something bothering Steve, something beyond the work he did for Lord Pierce, which he never likes. Bucky can wait until they get to Steve's to press, though; he doesn't have to make Steve spill all his secrets on the streets.</p><p>They finally get to Steve's building, and Bucky follows Steve up the stairs to his attic flat. It's all one room, with sloping ceilings that Bucky always has to be careful not to knock his head against, but Steve is half a head shorter at least, so he tends to be safer from bruised foreheads. It's not a big room, or luxuriously furnished, but it's close to Steve's work, and it's his. There's a spelled icebox and oven, enough that Steve can cook a few things for himself, and his landlady hosts breakfast every day except restday, and supper for a few extra coins a week, but Steve generally prefers to take that meal by himself or with Bucky.</p><p>The bed is low to the ground, with a nightstand beside it. There's a desk and chair by one of the windows, strewn with sketches and paints, and another chair next to the dresser. Steve clears off the desk, or at least tidies it so they won't get grease on any of his papers, while Bucky brings over the chair, then unwraps the pie and puts in the oven to warm, activating the charm by rubbing his finger over an engraving of a little flame. It's a good oven—it ought to be, since Becca made it. There had been a little potbellied stove in the corner when Steve moved in, but the thought of the potential for fire had given Bucky cold sweats until Becca had replaced it with this, much safer, charmed oven. Steve pulls his plates and cutlery out of the cupboard by the low sink and sets them on the desk, then fills two glasses with cold cider.</p><p>
  
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p><b>art:</b> Steve and Bucky, drawn in abstract triangles, sitting and talking in Steve's room. <b>art by:</b> the_genderman </p>
</div><p>Bucky pulls out the pie, accompanied by a waft of air smelling of savory spices and meat, and cuts them each a slice.</p><p>He wants to ask Steve what's troubling him, but the smell of the food has his stomach gurgling after a long day in the forest. They eat in companionable silence, commenting only on the food and drink until the meal is through. They wash the dishes together, a domestic ritual made comforting if only through long familiarity, then retire to the bed (Steve) and the chair (Bucky,) another glass of cider in hand.</p><p>"Something's bothering you," Bucky says, because there's no point in beating around the bush.</p><p>Steve looks at him, body relaxed, splayed across the bed in a way that Bucky has to remind himself Steve doesn’t mean to look enticing, and the corners of his mouth tip up into a smile.</p><p>"Am I that easy to read?"</p><p>"To me, maybe." Bucky smiles back at him.</p><p>Steve's face shifts, though, into something more serious. "I need your advice."</p><p>"Of course," Bucky says easily, but inwardly, he's a little surprised. Steve Rogers is usually an immovable force of some kind, not given to much uncertainty on what's right. When they were kids, that had meant that Bucky often ended up finishing some of Steve's fights for him when Steve couldn't, but Steve had never been one to ask if the fight was right. He'd never needed to be advised on that. It hadn't necessarily made him popular with the other kids their age, and combined with his poor health it had led to some people saying downright nasty things about him, but that had never stopped him or made him question his course of action that Bucky had ever seen. "So tell me what you need from me."</p><p>Steve starts talking, and with every word that comes out of his mouth, Bucky gets angrier.</p><p>"Why the hell would he want you to go into the forest for something?" Bucky grits his teeth. "I know you can handle yourself, but the forest is dangerous even if you go in there daily. What exactly does he want you to get, anyway?"</p><p>"Antlers from one of the deer in there, apparently." Steve brushes his bangs out of his eyes. It's a familiar gesture, one that usually never fails to make Bucky smile. But now, all he can see is the thinness of Steve's wrists, the delicate artist's fingers that aren't meant for grubbing through the woods the way Bucky does. "The white deer, he said. He said their antlers can neutralize any poison, heal any venom."</p><p>Bucky's stomach gives a little lurch that makes him regrets his mother's good meat pie. "Steve, that's—" He can't think of the right word. There are some creatures in the deep that rangers don't try to harm or capture. There are some creatures that you instinctively know aren't meant to be battled with by human hands. In all his years in the forest, Bucky's only seen two of the white deer, on separate occasions: one doe, and one stag. They were rare, and they were not the only thing in the forest that Bucky tried to avoid. He wouldn't be surprised if the antlers really did cure poison. There was an unearthly aura around the deer, as if they were more spirit then living animal. Both times Bucky had seen them, they had glowed in the depths of the forest, as though lit with moonlight under the shadows of the canopy at midday.</p><p>"Did he say why he thought you, of all people, should be the one to do it?" Bucky asks, when he can't come up with the words to say what he's thinking.</p><p>Steve's brow furrows, the familiar worried line that Bucky always wants to smooth away with his thumb leaping into existence. "No. That's part of what he'll give me if I bring this back for him. He said—well, he implied—that he knows who my father is. Was. Whatever."</p><p>"What else did he say he'd give you?" Bucky asks suspiciously.</p><p>Steve looks up, his familiar blue gaze striking Bucky like always. "Enough money to make my mastery, with enough left over besides." Besides what, he doesn't say, and Bucky can only imagine. Enough to move out of this tiny flat? Enough to go to the city? Enough of a nest egg to start a life with a partner? Bucky desperately wants to know, but he doesn’t ask..</p><p>"Did he say what he wants the antler for?"</p><p>"He says it's for his foster daughter." The two of them exchange a look. No one in the town has ever seen Lord Pierce's foster children. It's hard to say if he keeps them locked away because he thinks the society of the town is beneath them, or if they just spend most of their time in the city, or—Bucky's never really been sure what the other options are.</p><p>"You're going to do it, aren't you," Bucky says. It's not really a question. Steve needs the money, but more than that, the possibility of answers about himself combined with the chance to help someone who might need it—it's a perfect temptation for Steve Rogers, and Bucky is a little suspicious of how neatly Pierce set it up.</p><p>"Yeah," Steve says. "He's even set it up with Ross that I can miss work and not be penalized. And that's why I need the favor. I need you to direct me to where I need to go to find the white deer."</p><p>"I'm going with you," Bucky says immediately. He doesn't think he can stop Steve from going, and he can't imagine Steve would let him go in his place, but if there's anything he can do, it's keep the forest from reaching out to kill his best friend, who he loves, and whose body has unfortunately been too-often ready to let the world kill it since they were children—what the sometimes malevolent nature of the deep might do to him, Bucky never wanted to find out.</p><p>"I don't need you to, Buck," Steve said, his voice going a little deeper. It was a warning that Bucky should back off, probably, but Bucky isn’t going to heed the warning this time. "I just need your advice."</p><p>Bucky shook his head helplessly. "I can tell you what I think, but you haven't been there. You don't know the—the currents of the forest. What am I going to tell you—take a left at the big mossy stone?"</p><p>"I don't know, you could," Steve says stubbornly. "You could tell me where to go."</p><p>"The forest isn't always the same from day to day. It's not—" Bucky breaks off, reaches for words and finds none. "You can follow the paths for a while. They'll get you in deeper. But then the paths end, and the only thing that will keep you going is knowledge of what lies ahead."</p><p>Steve shoots him a look. "What about a map?"</p><p>"It won't work," Bucky says. "I'd give it to you if I could—"</p><p>"You could." Steve drains his glass and takes it to the sink. "You won't."</p><p>"Steve," Bucky says, searching for the words. "Anyone who's not used to the forest can get in trouble there. Especially if—" Bucky breaks off, but it's too late.</p><p>"Especially if what?" Steve asks. His tone is mild but he enunciates so clearly that each ord sounds bitten off.</p><p>Bucky doesn't have an answer anyway. Not one that Steve wants to hear. He was about to say exactly what Steve thought he was.</p><p>"Especially if they're weak?" Steve says, still in that falsely mild tone. "Weak like me."</p><p>"Steve, no," Bucky protests, but Steve's right. he wouldn't have said it that way, but the forest is dangerous and unforgiving, and for all that Steve has the heart of a mountain cat, he's not physically up to the demands of traversing the woods. But that doesn't matter when he doesn't have the knowledge, and that's what Bucky has to offer. And he would do anything Steve needed. "Let me help you. You shouldn't do it alone."</p><p>"I'm not weak," Steve says. "I can do this on my own."</p><p>"You don't have to," Bucky says. "Don't. There's no reason for you to go on your own—"</p><p>"You could help me," Steve says. "All I need is a map or something, guidelines—"</p><p>"A guide," Bucky says, and he can hear the desperation in his own voice. "Me."</p><p>Steve's jaw clenches. "You don't think I can do it."</p><p>"I couldn't do it by myself at first either," Bucky begins.</p><p>"You were a child," Steve says. "I'm not."</p><p>"Steve—" Bucky tries.</p><p>“We'll talk tomorrow," Steve says, the line between his brows practically a ravine. "I'm not leaving until next week, anyway."</p><p>Bucky's out the door and the door shut, his ma's dish clutched in his hand before he even knows what happened. How did this go so wrong so quickly? Then he stops and glares up at the top floor. A week. Does Steve think he's that much of an idiot?</p><p>The curtains at Steve's window don't open, but Bucky turns and salutes the closed windows anyway. Steve might think that he's shaken Bucky's company in the forest, but he's wrong.</p><p>Steve's not going to the deep without him.</p><p> </p>
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  <p>*</p>
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  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. two</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Steve goes into the woods.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve wakes up the next morning hoping it was a bad dream, but unfortunately, the ghost of his bad decisions smacks him in the memory hole immediately upon awakening, and he rolls over to bury his face in his pillow, groaning about what an idiot he is.</p><p>Bad enough he didn't get Bucky to give him a map or something, but he knows he overreacted.</p><p><br/>He sighs. Overreacted? He acted like a complete asshole. Bucky only wanted to help, and Steve knows better than most how dangerous the forest is, because Bucky’s told him and told him about it over and over again their whole lives. He just gets so tired of people telling him what he’s not capable of, even though he knows Bucky’s not like that.</p><p>Well, there's no sense in continuing to think about it, because he just keeps twisting himself in circles. He doesn't even know why he reacted so strongly, but it doesn't matter. What he needs to do is un-asshole himself. That means going to the Barnes house—which is on his way to the forest anyway—finding Bucky, and apologizing. Maybe he can get a little more direction out of him before he sneaks off. He's been into the fringes of the forest with Bucky before, anyway, so he at least has some idea of what he's getting himself into. He believes Bucky that it'll be worse in the deep. He's just hoping that it won't be <em>that</em> much worse.</p><p>He eats porridge for breakfast, which is not great, but it's what he has, then shoulders the pack that Lord Pierce's men left for him and starts walking towards the Barnes house and the forest. He has plenty of time to curse his quick temper and regret that his first reaction always seems to be to fight. That's fine sometimes, but Bucky doesn't deserve it.</p><p>The day is fine but warm, and the pack is heavy, and he's sweating by the time he reaches the turnoff to the Barnes house. He shrugs out of the pack with a sigh of relief and sets it by a tree. If he's going to maintain the illusion of going into the woods a week from now instead of today, he can hardly walk to the house with it strapped to his back. It's a consolation that at least the pack will get lighter as his week in the woods goes on.</p><p>He walks to the house, and his sweat-damp shirt cools his back as it dries in the breeze. The path is familiar; he's been walking it at least once a week since he was a tiny child, and he'd lived with the Barnes family briefly after his mother died. But it doesn't bring quite the same level of comfort that it usually does, because of his own dumbassery. He hates being wrong, probably because he spends most of his life trying to be right. It's not just that he's disappointed Bucky, which he hates, but also that he's disappointed <em>himself,</em> which makes him feel even worse. He couldn't be grumpier if he were walking underneath his own personal thundercloud.</p><p>Instead, it's sunny and fair, and now that he's set his pack down, his steps feel light. He slows a little as he gets to the Barnes house, but he's nothing if not someone who doesn't know how to back down, so he raps on the door in the sequence he's been using for nearly twenty years. It's not like he and Bucky haven't scrapped before, but this time it was clearly his fault.</p><p>Becca opens the door, and her smile in greeting him is as pleased as it always is, and Steve thinks a little shame-facedly that Bucky hadn't talked to her about their spat.</p><p>"Steve," she says, pulling the door a little wider. "I wasn't expecting you this morning."</p><p>"I have the day off work," he says.</p><p>"Well, you're welcome to come in," she says. "Bucky's already gone, though. He headed out early this morning. I can pour you a cup of tea."</p><p>"Thanks, but I already ate. Will you tell him I dropped by?"</p><p>She gives him a quizzical look—it's a long walk just to leave a message, he supposes—but agrees. "He said he's going to be gone for a bit, though," she adds.</p><p>Steve's stomach drops. Bucky does take multi-day expeditions into the deeper parts of the forest now and again, but usually he lets Steve know about them ahead of time. Had he been so upset the night before that he just...left? He tries not to let any of what he's thinking show on his face. He and Becca chat a little while longer before he excuses himself. He walks back out to the tree where he left his pack and shoulders it again.</p><p>The forest is waiting for him, and if he's unprepared to face it, that's nobody's fault but his own.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Steve's been to the outskirts of the forest before. Bucky's taken him many times. There are stories about what can come out of the deep, but Steve's always found the little part of the shallows he's been to almost welcoming, even more peaceful and pretty than the ordinary woods that dot the landscape of the lands outside of the deep woods. He's a little concerned that something in the woods will set off his allergies, but he guesses he'll deal with that when he's able. He has the various charms Becca has made him over the years to boost his health, and he'll have to hope that it's enough.</p><p>
  
</p><p><strong>art:</strong> Steve goes into the forest alone <strong>art by:</strong> whatthefoucault</p><p>The sunlight filters through the trees, leaving beams of golden light to penetrate the cool green shadows. It smells pleasantly of pine and growing things, and it's quiet but by no means silent. Birds call to each other, and rustling noises float up out of the undergrowth as small animals go about their business. Occasionally, there are clearings and smaller plans flourish there, shrubs and ground covering. It's spring, and some of the trees are covered in buds, some already in full leaf, and flowers dot the vegetation everywhere.</p><p>He's still shallow enough into the woods that there are narrow trails, and it's comforting evidence that this place isn't entirely untouched by human hands—or feet. He keeps an eye on the path, watching out for roots or rocks to trip him, because being by himself in the forest is probably foolhardy, but being injured and by himself in the forest would be scary. But there are surprisingly few rocks catching at his feet, and not too many branches or vines tangling his pack, although he's sure that will change as he gets deeper.</p><p>He's never been here without Bucky before, and it feels different, but not necessarily in a bad way. Instead of his allergies bothering him, he feels something in his chest loosen, some weight falling away from his shoulders—or maybe that's just him adapting to the weight of the pack.</p><p>Maybe it's not accurate to say that the forest has haunted him—he was born and grew up in Trowburne, a town on the edge of the deep woods—but he thinks he's more attuned to it than most of the people who live there. Not everyone leaves the walled parts of the old town all that often, or even the parts of town that have spilled over the original settlement along the river that flows through the forest and then inland toward the capital. He's spent more time by the forest and in the forest, due to being friends with Bucky, than most people who live there. When he was younger and sick all the time, some of the other kids had said he was cursed by the forest or a changeling because he was so ill—Bucky had said there were no such things as changelings or curses and that the forest had creatures enough on its own not to make up further dangers.</p><p>He wonders, a little uncomfortably, if his friendship with Bucky is why Pierce thinks he's best suited to this job for someone who's not an actual ranger, or if it has something to do with the identity of the father that Pierce claims to know.</p><p>He can't imagine what possible connection there could have been with Sarah Rogers and a peer of the land. She'd been a healer, and had done well enough for the two of them, but it seems highly unlikely to Steve that she'd ever have had the opportunity to treat a noble.<br/>It sends a pang through his chest to think of her, like always; Bucky's been his best friend for a long time, but his mother was his best friend, too. He wonders what she would think about all this. She'd told him to stay away from the forest when he was younger, but that was the sort of thing all parents say to their children, he assumes, to keep them from getting eaten by hellpigs and what not. When he'd been older, she hadn't objected to his exploring the shallows with Bucky.</p><p>He pulls up a sigh from somewhere deep in his chest, pushes aside a branch, and comes into a clearing.</p><p>There is, in fact, a big mossy stone in the center of it. Sitting on top of the stone is the one person in the world that Steve most wanted to see.</p><p>"Bucky," he says, surprised—but at the same time not surprised at all. He wonders if he wasn't half-expecting Bucky to show up as soon as Becca had said he'd be gone for a few days and just not realized it. Of course it's Bucky. Of course Bucky wouldn't let him do this alone. Still, he has to make at least a token protest. "You don't have to do this. You could go home."</p><p>Bucky shakes his head. "You don't really want that, do you? You don't really want to try to make your way through the forest alone."</p><p>"No," Steve says softly.</p><p>"Good, because I'm not gonna let you." Bucky hops down off the rock. There's a pack roughly the same size as Steve's, maybe a little bigger, leaning against the base of it. Steve hadn't noticed it at first; all his attention had been on Bucky.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Steve says. "I was such a jerk last night. I stopped by your house on the way out to try to apologize. I don't know why I reacted that way."</p><p>"It's all right," Bucky says.</p><p>"It's really not." Steve watches as Bucky shrugs in to the much more well-worn straps of his own pack and buckles them.</p><p>"Maybe try not to come out swinging quite so hard next time," Bucky says, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.</p><p>"I like how quickly you assume there's going to be a next time," Steve says.</p><p>"Just shows that I'm familiar with the Steve Rogers source material," Bucky says. "Hold still a minute. Let me fix your straps for you."</p><p>Steve holds still as directed while Bucky makes a series of what seem like minute adjustments to the complicated arrangements of straps. The pack immediately feels more comfortable as he redistributes the weight slightly, letting more of it rest on the strap buckles around Steve's hips and less of it on the straps across his shoulders.</p><p>"Thanks," Steve says.</p><p>"Sure thing." Bucky shoots him a quick smile, as easy as that. "I'll show you how to do it yourself as we go on. There's not that much of a trick to it, but it's easier with practice."</p><p>He doesn't say anything about how Steve is better off now that he's here. He doesn't say anything even vaguely resembling <em>I told you so,</em> even though he'd be completely justified if he did. Steve apologized, and that's the end of it, as far as Bucky's concerned.</p><p>Steve's not sure how he got so lucky as to have a friend like Bucky Barnes.</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Bucky had been up early, his sleep disrupted by thoughts of Steve out in the forest by himself. He'd spent his insomniac time putting together the kind of pack he usually took on longer expeditions into the forest. If he knew Steve—and he does; nobody knows him better—there was no way he was waiting until next week to go into the woods.</p><p>Bucky takes his supplies and goes instead to the place he'd brought Steve before. He suspects this is where he'd enter the woods—after all, it was where the two of them had always gone together. Bucky liked to take Steve there because it was the widest trailhead into the forest and they could walk side by side.</p><p>He goes in and waits long enough to see a figure approaching, lets him just get close enough to be sure that it's Steve, and sets out ahead of him. He wants to get them both a little further into the woods, so that it won't be so easy for Steve to tell him to go. When he thinks of Steve in the forest by himself, he gets a tight feeling in his chest, and he thinks that he can't let anything happen to him.</p><p>Steve is, without question, the most important person in Bucky's life outside of his family, and they're in this unique situation where Bucky's exact skill set is what Steve needs. If he’s in the position to help him, and he doesn't, he'll never forgive himself. He gets to the clearing with the big rock and sets his pack down. It's the work of only a few minutes to scale to the top of the boulder, a familiar route that he's taken many times.</p><p>His muscles are warm from the exertion, and he lets himself soak in the thin sunlight coming through the canopy. It feels good, warm against his skin. He relaxes, taking in the familiar sounds of the forest around him: the rustling leaves in the trees, the call and response of birdsong, animals rustling through the undergrowth, the faint creak of branches around him as squirrels leap from tree to tree. It's a familiar symphony, comforting in its sameness. He lets himself drift and enjoy a peaceful, quiet moment, not sure and not really caring how much time has passed. Still, he doesn't think it's too long before he hears the sound of someone walking along the path without really caring how much noise he makes. He opens his eyes and sits up, and waits for Steve to come into his field of vision.</p><p>When he does, he's wearing what looks to be a fairly sturdy and well-made pack, so at least Pierce didn't skimp on outfitting him. His eyes lift to find Bucky, and he doesn't look surprised to see him there. <em>Good,</em> Bucky thinks. He should know that Bucky will always look out for him.</p><p>Bucky slides down off the rock and by the time they've more or less talked it out and Bucky has fixed the fit of Steve's equipment, Bucky feels on a more even keel, the brief disturbance between them smoothed out.</p><p>They can walk side by side a little further, and so they do, elbows bumping now and then. Bucky points out interesting animals or plants as they walk, and he can almost feel Steve relaxing beside him. He's relaxing too, lulled by the familiar setting and having his best friend next to him. It doesn't ever do to be unwary in the forest, even in the shallows, but this is well-trod ground, familiar to him, and the safest they're likely to be for however long they're in here on Steve's mission. They've been quiet for a little while, just walking, but the thought won't leave Bucky's mind.</p><p>"In all my years in the forest, I've only ever seen two white deer," he says hesitantly. "How long does Pierce expect you to keep scouring the woods looking for them?"</p><p>"I don't know," Steve says after a moment. He darts a glance at Bucky, who has been unable to keep from watching him as they walk. "We didn't really discuss it. He was...honestly, weirdly confident that I could find it. I don't know, Bucky, there's something off about all of this."</p><p>"Yeah," Bucky agrees. "Why send a scribe to do a ranger's job?"</p><p>Steve shoots him a wry look before his face falls into more serious lines. Bucky misses the curve of his smile once it's gone. "He said none of you would do it."</p><p>"Well, he's right about that," Bucky says, pushing aside a long, whippy branch so that both of them can walk past it without getting smacked in the face. "I wouldn't want to try and catch one of the kings of the forest, if that's what he thinks is going to happen. They're—" He bites his lip, trying to think of the best way to say it. "They're not like ordinary deer. You know I hunt things in the forest all the time, right? I caught some hares yesterday, and I was fine with it. But there are some things that are—they're more than just animals, right? Sometimes you can look at something that doesn't look like you and you can tell that it thinks, that it feels, maybe not just the way that you do, but in a way that makes it a person. It doesn't matter if it doesn't think or communicate the same way that you would—it's not just an animal. I can't explain it," he adds, feeling that it wasn't enough. He can't really articulate what he wants to.</p><p>"I understand," Steve says, his brow furrowed. "Well, I understand enough. Pierce was trying to say that anyone who'd think the deer are anything but animals are superstitious—" Bucky shoots him a sidelong look, and Steve drives his elbow into Bucky's ribs.</p><p>"Don't worry, even if Pierce thinks I'm a—" Bucky abruptly loses his train of thought as he sees a flash of bright feathers cross his field of vision. "Steve," he whispers, aware that his hand on Steve's shoulder has gone awfully tight.</p><p>Steve stops, clearly not seeing immediately what Bucky's looking at, but going still beneath the pressure of Bucky's hand before he even knows why. Bucky presses close to him and angles their bodies toward what he thought he saw. And then—</p><p>"There," he whispers against the shell of Steve's ear. "Look." He himself watches Steve's face rather than look for the bird, and sees the exact second that Steve spots it; his face lights up, his eyes creasing with delight.</p><p>The firebird is a juvenile, and even if Bucky were on his own right now, on a hunting trip, he wouldn't try to capture this bird. It flickers around the edges, its fire barely flickering past the edges of its feathers. Bucky has seen older firebirds deep in the woods, and they look like meteors against the shadows of the old trees. This one is like a little candle flame, with the potential to grow into a blaze.</p><p>
  
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p><b>art:</b> a firebird drawn in abstract triangles <b> art by:</b> the_genderman</p>
</div><p> </p><p>"Why doesn't it set the tree on fire?" Steve whispers.</p><p>"It's an illusion," Bucky whispers back. "It's not really on fire. The theory is that it's a defense against predators, but no one really knows."</p><p>They watch as the bird preens itself on a tree branch. The illusory fire spreads out from its feet, making it look as if the tree bark is also singeing, but Bucky knows from experience there won't be a mark on the wood, not even a smudge of char. Something snaps in the distance—a branch or twig—and the bird snaps to attention, then launches itself from the tree to the air.</p><p>Steve makes a tiny sound next to Bucky, the sighed exhalation of someone seeing something magical come to an end. He crosses to the tree where the bird rested and stretches up, rubbing his fingers over the spot it just fled. "It's cold," he says in tones of mild surprise. "Not even a little warm where the fire was."</p><p>"Illusion," Bucky repeats. He hopes everything they encounter while they're in the woods is this benign. "Come on. Let's get going."</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>They keep walking for hours.</p><p>The path thins as they go deeper in, although Steve would never have called it wide to begin with. It gets narrower, until the two of them are bumping into each other with nearly every step, and then narrower still, so that they fall into line, Bucky leading them and Steve following him.</p><p>Steve would have, if he had ever thought about spending more time in the forest than a stroll with Bucky, expected himself to stumble, to cough, to bump up against everything clumsily—but he doesn't. He does better than he expected of himself, keeping up with Bucky even as the path breaks down to nothing more than animal trails now and again, even as Bucky forces a way for them through some of the undergrowth. The pack is lighter on Steve's back than he expects and the way is not as hard. He can't explain it, but he's not about to toss it aside.</p><p>Their path all day is easier than he expects; they stop to eat a lunch of flat bread (probably Pru's contribution, Steve thinks fondly) and cheese and apples, then keep walking. They don't talk much after that, and Steve thinks it's just because they're moving, or maybe because Bucky doesn't talk that much out here. But after perhaps a few hours' walk—Steve honestly can't tell—Bucky stiffens in front of him and flings out his arm.</p><p>Steve goes as still as he did for the firebird, not knowing exactly why they're stilling, but aware that if Bucky's doing it, there's a reason. And besides that, he feels something, he's not sure what—maybe it's just that he's attuned to his best friend, but he feels that something's off. He can't explain it, but he doesn't need to, he guesses.</p><p>"Buck?" he asks, barely breathing the words.</p><p>Bucky shoots him a look, then wraps his big hand carefully around Steve's bicep. Steve sucks in a breath, then tries to direct his attention anywhere besides the slow grasp of Bucky's warm, callused hand.</p><p>Then he sucks in another breath, because what Bucky's trying to show him are tracks in the mud, tracks that look like the little hooves he's sometimes seen around the farms of people who keep pigs, only much, <em>much</em> bigger.</p><p>"Hellpigs?" he asks, and is pleased that his voice is steady. Bucky's told him about his run-ins with the monstrous wild pigs. They're by no means the worst thing in the woods, but they're certainly not safe either, and they're unpredictable and big. Steve's tried to picture it when Bucky's talked about them before, but he's not sure he can really envision a pig the size of a cow.</p><p>"Yeah," Bucky says. He straightens up and meets Steve's eye. He doesn't look nervous or worried, exactly, but there‘s a line between his eyes. "This is fresh, too. I don't like the thought of us blundering through their territory while they're on the prowl. I know a campsite we can get to. It's a little earlier than I'd planned on stopping, but—" He shrugs, the straps of his pack following the motion. "I'd rather stop a little early than run into the pigs. They startle easy."</p><p>"It's fine by me," Steve says, even though he feels—surprisingly—that he could keep going.</p><p>Bucky nods, apparently satisfied with this answer, and then guides the two of them off of the path they've been following. They crash through the underbrush for a little and then Bucky has them on another path. It's a much narrower trail here, hardly more than stems bent down by others who've walked them before, but it does make the going easier than no path at all.</p><p>Bucky isn't exactly tense as he leads them down this way, but he's very attentive to their surroundings. They'd talked as they walked earlier, with the casual ease of two people who've spent most of a lifetime in conversation with each other, but now they’re silent as they go, Bucky stopping every now and then just to listen. Steve looks as best he can, but he's woefully aware that he doesn't know what he's looking or listening for. He thinks he owes Bucky a bigger debt of gratitude than he can express that Bucky didn't let him go in here alone.</p><p>He’s very aware of the knives hanging from Bucky’s belt, well-used and utilitarian, but capable of defending them if need be. Steve’s got his own belt knife secure in its sheath, but he uses it mostly for daily tasks. He wouldn’t know how to defend himself against much of anything. He’s a scribe, and he’s used more to trimming off uneven pieces of paper or sharpening his quill rather than putting his knife into a living creature. He hopes against hope that he won’t have to use it that way while they’re in the woods.</p><p>It takes them perhaps an hour of slow, careful going to get where Bucky wants them to go. They stop to drink a few times, the water warm and tasting faintly of Steve's leather canteen, but refreshing nonetheless. When they stop, it's near a steep stone face. It raises up perhaps three times Steve's height, with small trees and plants growing out of it. Bucky shrugs out of his pack, staring up at the top, and it's only then that Steve realizes he means for them to climb up it.</p><p>"Give me a minute," Bucky says. "I've climbed this dozens of times. I'll take a rope to the top and then we can ferry our packs up." He shoots Steve a reassuring smile. "It's not as steep as it looks from here, and there are lots of footholds."</p><p>Steve bites back his first three responses as Bucky fishes a length of rope out of his pack and secures it at his belt. Bucky takes a deep breath, making Steve wonder if he's as confident as he seems, then starts climbing, and all of a sudden, Steve has no room for apprehension or nervousness about how he will do this; all he can do is watch in sheer flabbergasted amazement as Bucky scales the rock.</p><p>He moves steadily, hands seeing out cracks in the rocks, muscles bunching in his forearms, in his back, visible though the sweat-damp fabric of his shirt, in his calves, and the swell of his ass. He doesn't scramble up the side, but tests every hand- and foothold, checking to be sure they're secure. He uses the rock, not the plants growing out of it most of the time, Steve notes, stretching a little farther to get a more secure grip when he needs to. He moves methodically, steadily, but almost before Steve realizes it, he's vanishing over the lip of the cliff.</p><p>"Just a second," Bucky calls down, and Steve hears rustling as he does whatever he needs to secure the rope. His face appears over the edge once more a minute later, and he says, "Step back, I'm tossing the rope over."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. three</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Steve finds a mysterious note.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy Friday! Please enjoy some ding dongs being ding dongs and maybe a small soupçon of plot &lt;3 </p><p>Chapter 2 has been updated with some amazing art from whatthefoucault, so please <a href="#section0002">click back</a> and take a look because it is WONDERFUL and captures a very big Steve mood &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve steps back, and watches as the rope slithers down the cliff face. It piles into coils at the base of the rock, and then a moment later, Bucky is walking backward over the edge of the cliff, biceps straining the edges of his sleeves, gloved hands tight on the rope. Steve has long since come to terms with the fact that his friend is the exact perfect ideal of what a man should look like, but he can forget it most of the time, because most of the time they're giving each other shit, or scuffling, or driving elbows into each other's sides at the Barnes restday dinner; but right now, seeing Bucky in his element, so competent, his body an unstoppable machine—Steve isn't sure what he feels. Not weak, not exactly, even though he objectively is; more struck by a deep appreciation for what Bucky can do. Physically.</p><p>Steve just hopes he can get himself over whatever this is before Bucky hits the dirt, is what he's saying.</p><p>But when Bucky does get to the ground, fortunately, they're suddenly far too busy for Steve to have a crisis about how good Bucky is at what he does and how good he looks doing it. Bucky pushes his sweaty hair back from his face and immediately starts knotting their packs onto the rope. He walks Steve through the best way to tie the knots so the packs won't slip halfway through their voyage up the rock, but he doesn't actually offer to let Steve try and tie one.</p><p>"When we get to the top, I'll show you, if you want," he says, and Steve definitely wants that. He wants to be useful on this journey that he’s brought them on—that Bucky has, thankfully, brought himself on.</p><p>Bucky climbs back up the rock once the packs are tied off, using the rope as a handhold to walk back up in the same way he walked down. The powerful movement of his muscles beneath his smooth skin is no less compelling on the way up than it was on the way down, and Steve wonders what in the hell is wrong with him that he can't seem to look away.</p><p>Bucky climbs over the top, and there's a moment where Steve can't see him, but then Bucky's leaning out again, and he calls down, "Ready?"</p><p>"Sure," Steve says, although there's not really a specific thing for him to be ready for, and Bucky starts pulling the packs up. This is almost as bad as watching him descend and then ascend the rock face; his arms pump in a steady rhythm, and Steve has to watch his biceps contract repeatedly. Finally, red-faced and sweaty, Bucky pulls the packs over the edge; but then, only a few moments later, the rope comes falling back down.</p><p>"All right, Steve," Bucky says. "If it feels okay to climb up the wall like I did, do it, and if it doesn't, then I can pull you up."</p><p>Steve's brain shorts out a little bit at that. He almost wishes that the hellpigs would run up right then, because then he could claim the danger clause to just have Bucky pull him up for reasons like imminent death, instead of just "would like to see you flex."</p><p>As it is, Bucky tosses down the leather gloves that Steve's not sure his sketchy benefactor included in his own pack of supplies, and Steve gets to climb up under Bucky's watchful eye.</p><p><br/>
It's easier than it should be.</p><p>Not that Steve is complaining. He tightens his fingers and carefully places his feet on fissures in the rock and and baby canyon pines, and Bucky walks him through it the whole time. He gets a lecture on not crushing birds’ nests, but also what he gets is both of their surprise at the way he gets himself up the cliff without Bucky having to bodily heave him up.</p><p>Steve crests the edge of the cliff without really knowing what to expect.</p><p>Between hauling the supplies up over the cliff and making sure Steve didn't hurt himself, Bucky hasn't had a chance to set anything up, so once they've both lain on the leaf mold for a few minutes marveling that they both made it, Steve pushes himself upward.</p><p>Bucky is still lying on his back, red-faced and sweaty, chest heaving. He tilts his head toward Steve at Steve's movement, smiling brightly like he's never seen anything better than Steve.</p><p>"You did great," Bucky says. "We'll make a woodsman out of you this trip."</p><p>"We've already got one ranger in this friendship," Steve says, although something in him expands at the thought of the two of them, a partnership out here away from everyone else.</p><p>"Yes, but just think," Bucky says. "We could have two."</p><p>Steve throws a handful of pine needles at him, Bucky throws a handful back at him, and they end up on the forest floor, wrestling the way they used to when they were ten, stopping only when Steve takes horrible advantage of his knowledge of Bucky's ticklish spots, pinning him and going mercilessly after his sides. Bucky could easily break free from his grip, he's certain, but instead, Bucky just twists from side to side, wheezing with laughter.</p><p>"I give up," he gets out in great gasps. "Stop, Steve, I'm dying."</p><p>Steve rolls off of him, magnanimous in his victory, feeling only a little silly about behaving like a literal child when they are grown adults. Bucky throws his arm over his face, sucking in breaths, the line of his jaw softened by the curve of his mouth, still smiling. It gives Steve a funny feeling, tender, soft as the new growth unfurling on the trees around them.</p><p>"Show me how to set up the camp," he says, because doing something will be easier than sitting with this feeling that he's not quite ready to examine too closely.</p><p>Bucky pushes himself up, and looks at Steve fondly. "I would have, only someone was too busy murdering me to let me get started."</p><p>"For someone who's been murdered you seem awfully alive." Steve leans forward and picks a leaf out of Bucky's hair. An expression Steve can't read crosses Bucky's face, like the shadow of a cloud covering the sun, but then he smiles again and pushes himself to his feet.</p><p>"All right, we'll get camp set up," is all he says, though, and Steve knows better than to push. If Bucky wants him to know, he'll tell him. In the meantime, there's plenty he has to show Steve—how to set up the clever little tent that's barely big enough for both of them and their packs, where the best place is for a fire pit, if they want it. Steve can see that Bucky's camped here before, as well as maybe the other rangers; the Barnes aren't the only family that explores the woods in Trowburne. There's a shallow indentation on an expanse of bare rock that's scarred and pitted with soot, clearly used as a firepit many times in the past. Bucky points them in a different direction to spread out their bedrolls, where thick moss grows over the rock.</p><p>"I don't usually sleep in the tent unless it rains," Bucky says. He glances up at the cloudless sky. "It gets stuffy. It's not likely to rain overnight, but if it does, we can just grab our bedrolls and take cover pretty quickly."</p><p>"Sure," Steve says. He looks up too. There's a gap in the tree cover above them, the sky blue, but turning to pink at the edges, and if the clouds stay away, he expects a good view of the sky. It's not that there aren't stars over the town, but the streetlamps obscure them, and most nights he's secure in his own four walls, not sleeping outside where he can look up at them.</p><p>He lets his gaze back down to their campsite, and Bucky's watching him thoughtfully. "Can I see your gear?" he asks. "I want to see what they bought you. The pack looks good enough," he adds, almost resentfully.</p><p>Steve brings his pack over. He'd gone through it back at his flat, and it looked all right to him, but Bucky'll know far better than he where Pierce's people skimped, if they did. Bucky approves of the bedroll, tells him he brought too many changes of clothes, reluctantly approves of the food, mostly dried and preserved, and supplies—a pan, a metal plate and cutlery, bucket, soap, a couple of tarps instead of a tent, an axe, a clever folding shovel, a firestarter, all of it new. He has a larger canteen full of water in addition to the smaller one that he's been using all day.</p><p>Bucky notices him looking at the water thoughtfully, and before Steve can even ask, he says, "We'll follow the river, mostly, while we're in here. I don't like to camp without a water source near. There are loads of feeder streams we'll need to cross, and there's plenty of water." He pulls a leather cord out of his shirt, a ring of charms clinking faintly on the end of it. Steve recognizes a firestarter, a water-repeller, and a find-home spell along with many he doesn’t know. He separates one that looks like a simple brass fish and shows it to Steve. "It's probably okay to drink from the streams, but Becca made me this charm to purify our drinking water. Better safe than sorry."</p><p>"Where's the water source here?" Steve asks, because while he's been able to hear water running for most of the day, it doesn't sound particularly close.</p><p>The corner of Bucky's mouth ticks up, and he leads Steve over to a corner of the cliff face where the rock keeps going up over the flat area of their campsite. It's inaccessible to most anything larger that can't climb, Steve realizes; the rock wall effectively surrounds them on two sides, and the cliff face they climbed up makes the third. It's a big enough space that it doesn't seem precarious at all.</p><p>And in the corner of the rock, he realizes, there's a tiny waterfall, not much more than a trickle over the stone. The water hardly leaves the rock surface, but enough that they can fill their canteens from it, and there's a small pool at the base of the trickle, from which Bucky fills one of their buckets. They carry the full canteens and the bucket back over to the camp.</p><p>"We don't really need a fire tonight," Bucky comments, "but we should take advantage of a hot meal while we know we can have it. There might be other campsites later on where we won't be able to have a fire." Steve nods; he's perfectly willing to agree to whatever Bucky thinks best.</p><p>"The white deer," he asks. "Where have you seen them? Where should we be heading to try and find them?"</p><p>"I thought we would stick close to the river," Bucky says. "Everything has to drink." He starts moving around the little plateau clearing, gathering up deadwood as they talk, so Steve follows, trying to emulate the kind of wood he's picking up. "It's spring, so, at least with regular deer, their antlers are shedding. I figure our best bet will be to go near the places I saw them before, and look for shed antlers for you to bring back to Pierce."</p><p>"How likely do you think that is to happen?" Steve says quietly.</p><p>Bucky shrugs, picking up another fallen branch to add to his armful. "I don't know. I've never really gone looking for them before. If we find some, you'll see. There's something about them—you can tell that they're not just animals. There's a spark of intelligence, and I don't know that it's like ours, necessarily, but that doesn't mean I want to snuff it out. There's plenty of other ways to support ourselves in the forest."</p><p>It's strange to think of a human-like intelligence in an animal's body, like something out of the old stories. But even if it seems fantastical, he agrees with Bucky. There's no need to take the chance of killing something that can think.</p><p>"Let me show you how to build a fire," Bucky says, and then Steve is distracted from the thought of consciousness in creatures unlike himself.</p><p>Even with a fire starting charm, it's not as easy to get a fire going as one might think, but Bucky is an old hand at it, and they get it burning cheerfully away before too long. Bucky pulls out a teakettle and a big pan, much more battered and scorched then the one in Steve's pack. He's got tongs as well, and a wooden spoon. He wanders the clearing for a little while, staring at the ground, and Steve doesn't know what he's doing until he pulls up a handful of young, wild onions. He cuts up the onions, slicing through the bulbs and tearing up the greens. A bottle in his pack proves to hold cooking oil, and Steve thinks he remembers a bottle like it in his own supplies. Bucky throws the onions in the pan, and while there waiting for the onions to brown, starts breaking up some of the dried meat in his pack, flaking it into the oil as well. Next in his water from the canteen, dried herbs tied together in a bundle, and salt. Then the whole thing gets left to further cook under the clothes lid of the pan, the onion greens to be added when the rest is done.</p><p>Steve pulls the metal cup out of his pack and sets it next to the much more battered cup that's Bucky's, and Bucky makes them both tea. There are plenty of fallen logs and rocks around the clearing, and the two of them sip their tea as their food cooks and night falls.</p><p>The sky turns bright pink streaked with purple, and the setting sun gilds the trees with golden light. Even before the sun is properly down, the moon and the first stars brighten the sky. The purple takes over, then fades to deep black-blue as even those shyer stars become bright. Steve's no astronomer, but he can pick out constellations, and Bucky tells him the names of some of the guide stars that he finds his way by. When Bucky pronounces the food ready to eat, it's nearly full dark, and Steve is glad of the light from the fire. The food is simple but good, and Bucky tells him they'll eat the rest of it tomorrow for breakfast. Steve thinks he won't mind cold grain to start their day, not if it tastes like this.</p><p>When they're done, they clean up their plates in the bucket, and Bucky banks the fire. They take to their bed rolls, and the blankets on top of the soft, springy moss is not nearly as uncomfortable as Steve feared. He slides deeper into the blankets. There's extra padding padding on one side, and that makes a passable pillow. He orients himself so that his head is in the right place, and as he does his fingers brush over something out of place—something harder than the soft give of the blankets. It rustles slightly when he rubs his fingers over it. He sits up.</p><p>"Steve?" Bucky says from right next to him. There's enough light from the stars and the moon that Steve can see the outline of his body as he sits up too.</p><p>"There's something in the blanket," Steve says. He reaches out, fumbling a little in the dark, and finds Bucky's wrist so he can guide his fingers to the object. Bucky's pulse thumps beneath Steve's fingertips, steady and certain.</p><p>"Feels like paper," Bucky says. "Hold on." The charms around Bucky's neck jingle as he find the finds the one he wants, and a moment later, a soft light flickers into existence next to Steve,<br/>
Bucky's face gently illuminated above it.</p><p>Steve lifts up the part of the blanket where the paper is; right near a seam. Even in the dim light, Steve can see that there's a place where the threads don't quite match.</p><p>"Interesting," Bucky mutters, and retrieves his belt knife from wherever he had stowed it. He slits open the mismatched seam and carefully picks out the thread.</p><p>"What the hell," Steve mutters as Bucky pulls out a folded sheet of paper wrapped around a feather strung with beads, not much bigger than Steve's thumb. The two of them lean together, heads almost touching, as Bucky unfolds the paper.</p><p>The script on the page is neat, although not, in Steve's professional opinion, that of a trained scribe. The note is not long. It reads, <em>Be careful. He is not what he seems. Tell my brother I live.</em> There's no signature.</p><p>Steve reads the note aloud, then turns to look at Bucky. Bucky's eyebrows have drawn together, wrinkling his brow, and when he looks up, Steve realizes, suddenly, how close their faces are to each other. He leans back a little.</p><p>"What on earth does this mean?" Steve says.</p><p>Bucky shakes his head. "I've got no idea. Who is <em>he?</em> Is it about Pierce?"</p><p>"I don't see who else it could mean. But who wrote it?" He doesn't know what to make of it. Obviously Pierce had to tell some of his people about this little expedition, because someone had outfitted Steve with this pack and its contents and Steve can't imagine Pierce himself putting this together, but if it was one of Pierce's people, why would they warn him against him?</p><p>"No way of telling, and certainly not until we get back to town. But why send the note at all? How are we supposed to know who this person’s brother is?"</p><p>Bucky folds the note back up and hands it to Steve. "I don't like it."</p><p>Steve puts the note in his pack, not sure what to do with it. If it really is from one of Pierce's people, it might be best to just burn it, for that person's well-being; Steve doubts that Pierce is a kind or forgiving employer.</p><p>"There's nothing we can do about it now," Bucky says softly. He deactivates the charm, and the two of them are plunged back into a night that seems suddenly darker than it had been, no matter that the moon and the stars are just as bright. "Get some sleep."</p><p>Steve lays back down, his thoughts racing so that he wonders if he'll be able to get back to sleep at all. He tries to make himself comfortable. "Now I've got to sleep with a hole in my blanket," he grumbles aloud.</p><p>Bucky laughs. "Tomorrow I'll teach you how to repair a seam. It's a useful life skill."</p><p>"I don't want to learn a useful life skill," he mutters. Maybe it's the exertion of the day, but despite the fact that his thoughts are racing in circles, Steve falls asleep to the quiet noises of the forest and Bucky's deep, even breathing beside him.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. four</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Steve is embiggened.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In some ways, Bucky wakes up to a very familiar scene. The sun is just cresting the horizon, not yet up over the trees, but he's surrounded by a dim light and the noises of the forest coming awake: small animals, the quiet trickle of water, and the birds calling excitedly to each other. He's long since gotten used to the way his back and sides are a little stiff after sleeping on the ground.</p><p>But what makes this morning different is the warm pressure all along his back, the weight of an arm over his waist. He smiles a little; this is familiar from when they were younger. They'd pile into one another's beds and sleep at each other's houses more often than not, and if they didn't go to bed curled up around one another, they woke up that way most mornings. He lets himself relax into it in a way he never would if Steve were awake. He's afraid he would give far too much away. But for now, he lets himself enjoy this, Steve a warm and solid presence against his back, the prospect of nothing but time with the two of them together. He misses that—he wouldn't go back to their school years given a choice, but he misses the endless hours they'd spent together, when time seemed like an inexhaustible resource. </p><p>He leans back into the warmth, and Steve's solid arm tightens against his side. It feels good, and Bucky likes it, but—</p><p>His eyes fly open. There's not a damn thing about Steve that could ever be described as "solid," and in the times they've held each other for warmth, it's always, always, been Steve huddling up to take advantage of the warmth that Bucky puts out, not the other way around, and of the two of them, Bucky has always been the larger. His heart beating erratically, he turns around under Steve's arm.</p><p>Bucky nearly swallows his tongue when he sees Steve, and barely represses a shriek, but he can't help jerking back in surprise. Steve's hand grips Bucky's side reflexively, and that's when his eyes crack open. Bucky only doesn't completely lose his shit because the blue eyes staring at him are the most familiar eyes he's ever seen, and he could never mistake Steve's eyes anywhere.</p><p>It's the rest of him that's confusing.</p><p>Steve's body is—bigger. Bucky can't tell how much taller he is, but the familiar narrow ribcage that Bucky's had memorized for most of his adult life is broader and wrapped with muscle, narrowing down to a waist that can't be too much changed before flaring back out into more muscled hips. His arms—Bucky can't think too much about his arms or he'll absolutely lose his mind, and he feels perilously close as it is.</p><p>The dark gold hair is still the same, flopping into Steve's confused face, and his jawline is the same, mostly, but stretched across a bigger face. Bucky can't help looking, horrified, because he brings Steve to the woods for <i>one night,</i> and what the fuck even happened to him?</p><p>"Buck?" Steve's voice is still the same, deep and sleep-rough, but Bucky would know it anywhere.</p><p>"Steve," Bucky says, and then his thoughts seem to stall out right there.</p><p>Steve rubs his hands over his eyes and then pushes his hair out of his eyes. Bucky's gaze is inexorably drawn to the way his muscles bunch between a shirt that fit Steve just fine yesterday and is far too small today. It's molded to his chest as though he just stepped out of some waterfall somewhere instead of just woke up clinging to Bucky. Bucky is a mere man with a terrible crush on his best friend, and he's not sure how he's supposed to react to this.</p><p>"What's wrong," Steve mumbles, and there, that's the thing that Bucky can hold onto, because it  something wrong, something unusual and Steve needs to know.</p><p>Bucky leans forward and catches Steve's wrist in his hand. Steve glances down at his hand, frowns, looks up at Bucky's face, glances down at his wrist again his frown deepening, then says, "What's going on?"</p><p>Bucky can't imagine how he's going to explain this, so he sits up until he's on his knees, then leans back and pulls Steve up after him. </p><p>"What—? Bucky," Steve complains, but Bucky keeps tugging until they're kneeling, facing each other.</p><p>"You're—you're—" Bucky takes a deep breath, trying to settle himself. "I don't know what happened. Nothing like this has ever happened to me before, and I don't—"</p><p>"Just tell me what it is," Steve says. He looks much more alert now. Even on his changed face, Bucky can read nervousness—and that's a comfort, that even so changed, Steve's expressions are an open book to him.</p><p>"You're bigger," Bucky says.</p><p>"Bigger?" Steve says. His voice is still fuzzy with sleep.</p><p>Bucky wraps his fingers around Steve's wrist and pulls it in front of him where he can see it. "You look like you put on another person's worth of muscle overnight." Bucky is aware that his voice sounds on the verge of cracking. He feels that he, personally, is on the edge of cracking, though, so maybe that's all right. "Stand up."</p><p>Steve looks more awake now, his face twisted with the beginning of panic. "What is this?" he says as he stands. He wobbles on the way up, trying to balance for a height and weight that he no longer has. Bucky has to reach out to steady him, and Steve looks at him in complete and utter shock.</p><p>"I don't know," Bucky says. "I've never heard of anything like this happening in the forest before."  They're nearly the same height now, and while parts of Steve are still slender, his shoulders are broader and he looks like he's been doing the kind of physical outdoor work that Bucky does for years instead of sitting at his desk illuminating letters. His thighs—Bucky can't think about his thighs for very long. They're very big and...sittable. He clears his throat. "How do you feel?" </p><p>"Fine," Steve says. "I mean...on the verge of panic, but physically all right." He takes a step back from Bucky, already steadier on his feet. He looks down at himself, arms spread, taking in the tightness of his shirt, the solid span of his chest and biceps. His expression is of frightened disbelief. Bucky finds himself leaning forward to grab Steve's wrists again, to give him something solid to hold onto. </p><p>"Steve," he says, in as reassuring a voice as he can muster since the friend he could tuck under his chin the day before—not that he'd ever had the opportunity to try, really, but it was a very appealing thought—could now look him in the eye. "It's all right. We'll figure this out. You're not—it doesn't hurt, does it?"</p><p>"No." Steve breathes out shakily, and his hands clamp down around Bucky's wrists, so that both of them are clasping the other’s forearms. "It doesn't hurt at all. It feels—honestly, nothing hurts, and I thought it would after yesterday."</p><p>"Yeah," Bucky says slowly. "I mean, I'm glad you don't hurt, but with all the hiking and climbing we did, not to mention sleeping on the ground, I'd have thought that you'd at least have a few stiff muscles."</p><p>Steve lets go of Bucky's wrists so he can swing his arms and stretch a little. Bucky lets go too, of course, but he regrets the loss of the contact as soon as it's gone. "Not a thing," Steve says. "Not even a twinge."</p><p>"Do you want to go back?" Bucky says. "We're not that far in. We can get Becca to take a look at you, and if she doesn't know what this is, I bet she can at least point as to someone who does." Becca knows, if not all, then <i>most</i> of the magic workers in town, and she has a dedicated network of colleagues all over the country, so if she doesn't know what to do, she can at least help them figure out how to start looking for help.</p><p>Steve looks at him thoughtfully, his lower lip, just as full as ever, caught between his teeth. He's quiet for a moment, and for the life of him Bucky can't tell what he's thinking. "No," Steve decides. "Let's keep going. What if...whatever this is reverses when we leave the forest? What if it's nothing?"</p><p>Bucky stares at him. His best friend can be a bit of an idiot. "It's definitely not nothing." </p><p> "It's some kind of magic, or something." Steve looks down at his arms again, turning his hands from side to side. "It doesn't seem to be harming anything."</p><p>"We don't know that, though," Bucky says. The more he thinks about it, the more he's certain that they should head back and let Becca take a look. </p><p>Steve shakes his head stubbornly, and with a sinking feeling, Bucky realizes he can read the set of his jaw even if it's bigger and squarer than it was yesterday. "What if Pierce retracts the offer if I come back?"</p><p>"If you start feeling bad—if anything starts hurting—"</p><p>"Then we'll turn back," Steve says. "I promise I'll tell you."</p><p>Bucky hopes that he can trust that.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Steve is trying to adjust to—whatever this is. It's hard to wrap his mind around it. It's actually not that hard to adjust to how to move. It takes only about an hour of wandering through the woods, following Bucky and pretending not to see all the worried looks he keeps throwing back over his shoulder to get Steve more or less used to how he moves now. It seems like that's how much time he needs for his brain to catch up to his limbs, and it's mostly easy after that. He still stumbles every now and again, or misjudges the distance between his hand and whatever he's trying to reach, unable to quite remember that apparently his arms are longer, but overall, it's probably easier than it should be, just like none of him hurt, and just like he hasn't had any trouble breathing since they came into the woods.<p>He shouldn't trust it, and yet—it feels right. From the sidelong glances that Bucky keeps tossing his way, Steve should be a little upset by all of this. He should be freaked out, but he's not.<br/>
He's entranced by how easily his body moves, by the way nothing hurts, and the way he's sucking in breath easily keeps him from being too worried. </p><p>He’s wearing Bucky’s clothes, because nothing he packed for this trip really fits him anymore. There’s a strange comfort in wearing Bucky’s clothes—he can’t quite put a name to it, but he feels it--like being wrapped in a hug from his best friend at all times. Bucky can’t seem to stop looking at him, so maybe it’s as weird to him as it is to Steve that the clothes fit him now—or maybe it’s just that Steve is suddenly as big—bigger, even—as he is. </p><p>He can breathe, and nothing hurts, and maybe he should be looking into the mouth of this particular gift horse a little more closely, but he just wants to enjoy having a body that does what it's supposed to without pain. For the first time in his life, his strides are as long as Bucky's are, and he's going to enjoy it before he questions it, just in case it gets taken away.</p><p>The morning is uneventful. They're moving deeper into the woods, and Steve thinks that the trees and plants are looking a little larger than they did yesterday, when they first came into the woods, but it's so gradual he can't be sure. The forest floor definitely slopes downward, though, and he feels like he's walking into a deep body of water, deeper than any of the lakes that he knows. The woods definitely get darker as they move more towards its center, the leaves overhead blocking out more of the sun.</p><p>Steve looks back and forth, taking it all in. It's weird to think that this is how Bucky spends his days, deep in the woods, surrounded by everything that's so strange from the every day, while Steve hunches over paper and writes out the everyday in his little room.</p><p>He looks up. Bucky is ahead of him, following the tracks of his usual paths, Steve supposes. Unlike Steve's new gear, his clothes are well worn, his leather boots supple and scuffed. Steve's fortunate that Bucky shared his clothes with him—his new gear is now too small for him, and even Bucky's loose shirt stretches tight across Steve's chest. At least Steve's boots still fit—but then, his hands and feet were always large for his small frame.</p><p>Bucky's moving purposely ahead of him, the movements too ingrained to be anything but practiced. Steve can see the way his muscles shift his shirt and trousers, the way a drop of sweat is making its way down his neck from his hairline, and he wishes he had a sketchbook right now. It's not practical, not while they’re walking, but he does have a small book, not much bigger than his hand, tucked away in his pack, and maybe Bucky will let him draw him when they stop for the evening. Bucky's always been his favorite subject to draw, but right now, it's like he's seeing him in a new way, here in his element.</p><p>It's hard not to feel like it's Steve's element too, at least a little. He knows it's just the way he's moving so easily, and whatever happened to him to change in this way, but the forest feels welcoming to him in a way the town never has.</p><p>He knows it's stupid, since the forest is really just danger lurking around every corner, and the town has nothing worse, really, then the knowledge that he doesn't really fit in, and maybe the occasional petty thief. It's just that here, he wants to turn his face up toward the sun, and stretch his legs walking through the woods, and in town, he really most wants not to be noticed. It's a strange—strange but oddly warm—thought, that maybe he could carve a place for himself in the forest the way that Bucky and his family have, that this could be a place that he belongs. He lets himself spin out a fantasy of it, he and Bucky in the woods, both rangers, both moving like they belong there, like something in the woods recognizes something in them. He files the thought away as something to bring up with Bucky at mealtime—for all that he's always known what Bucky does, he's never asked him how it feels to do it, and it's only now occurring to him that he should, and he can.</p><p>Bucky stops in his tracks, and Steve freezes behind him. He doesn't since any imminent danger—the birds are still singing, and he doesn't have a sense of being watched—but he's hardly an expert the way that Bucky is. Bucky strides a few steps ahead, then squats down to inspect a section of the path.</p><p>"Hellpigs," he says, pointing; Steve can see the deep divots of prints against a muddy track in the trail. "Maybe the same ones we ran into yesterday, but maybe not. It's a little strange to see another herd so close to the first, but I suppose it could happen."</p><p>"Is that unusual?" Steve asks.</p><p>"Yeah." Bucky straightens up, wiping his hands on his thighs almost unconsciously. "They're pretty territorial—I don't expect to see them very close to each other. If they cross each other's tracks, we'll probably hear it, if it happens anywhere within a couple miles' range."</p><p>Steve wonders what, exactly, an enraged hellpig sounds like, and then hopes he's not ever in the position to find out.</p><p>When the sun is high in the air, they stop to eat. Bucky has been angling them toward the river, and there's a more open area with flat rocks to sit on, sunlight streaming down between the gap in the trees. A feeder stream joins the river, and Bucky fills all their flasks from it, tapping the containers with one of the charms around his neck. He fills cups for them, too, and waves the charm over them as well.</p><p>"What would you do if you didn't have the charms Becca made for you?" Steve asks, curious.</p><p>"About the water, you mean?" Bucky takes a sip, and Steve absently watches  the line of his throat as he swallows. "There are ways around it. There are devices that filter the water through charcoal, or tablets you can drop in—I've got a few as a backup, in case something goes wrong with Becca's charms, but it never has."</p><p>"So there are non-magical solutions you could use, if you didn't have access to charms."</p><p>"Yeah, for most things." Bucky shoots him a smile. "But a lot of them take up more space, so I'd rather use the charms. More room to carry stuff back out that way."</p><p>Steve feels a strange flush of something akin to guilt, as though he's keeping Bucky from his job—as if Bucky hadn't decided to come along with him no matter what Steve said. He's glad that he did, now; no matter how much he feels he fits in here, he can see now that Bucky was right, and there wasn't a map that he could give him that would get him through the woods.</p><p>"I feel like I belong here," Steve murmurs. He doesn't even necessarily want or need Bucky to answer, but of course Bucky does.</p><p>"You're taking to it," he says. "Even before the whole—" He waves his hand around, presumably to indicate Steve's sudden height and breadth. "You know, Becca doesn't even like to come in here, so you're doing really well."</p><p>"She doesn't?" Steve can feel his eyebrows jump, but now that he thinks about it, he doesn't remember ever seeing her in the woods, just going through Bucky's finds.</p><p>"She likes it better where she has more control," Bucky says, and laughs. Then his quicksilver eyes get a little more somber, and he darts a glance at Steve. "I know what you mean, though. I like it out here. It's different, when it's just yourself and the forest as opposed to a city full of people. I feel like I'm testing myself."</p><p>Steve takes a bite of his apple, considering. It's not exactly what he meant, but he can see what Bucky means, he thinks, even if he's not exactly challenging himself against the woods the way he thinks Bucky is.</p><p>They finish eating, and gather their gear. Already, the straps and buckles of the pack feel familiar to Steve. And of course, it will continue to get lighter as they eat their way through their supplies. Bucky has charms to preserve the food, courtesy of Becca, but he tells Steve that he intends for them to eat the most perishable foods first anyway. It makes sense, and Steve certainly doesn't care.</p><p>They set out again, and this time Bucky keeps them close to the river. They stop a few times for him to collect a greasy looking gray moss that Bucky assures him will become a deep blue dye once treated. "I'm hoping we’ll find some starflowers too," Bucky says as he packs the moss away, carefully wrapping it in cloth.</p><p>"What are starflowers?" Steve asks.</p><p>"They glow," Bucky says, and Steve thinks that they can't shine half as bright as Bucky's eyes when he's enthusiastic about something. "Becca makes lights out of them, but when you find vines of them growing in the woods—you've never seen anything like it. You really could mistake them for stars, if you didn’t know which way was up. You'll love it."</p><p>"It sounds amazing," Steve says.</p><p>"It is," Bucky says. "It's beautiful, and a lot of animals seem to be drawn to them. I hope we'll get to see."</p><p>They keep walking, and Steve doesn't think he'll ever get over moving so tirelessly like this. It's not Steve's imagination now that the trees are getting larger and the path is getting darker as they move deeper into the forest; the trunks are so wide that he doesn't think the entire Barnes family plus him could stand around one and have their fingers touch. The plants around the base of the trees are bigger, and vines as thick as his arm snake around the trees.</p><p>Bucky has a knife so big it's nearly a short sword that he uses to slash through the vegetation when necessary. There are bright orange flowers bigger than Steve's head growing on one of the vines, and as he watches, a black and yellow lizard retreats into the cup of one of their petals, its bright eye seeming to pause on Steve. It's a stranger landscape than he could have imagined, but a beautiful one.</p><p>Birds call far above them, the familiar songs of finches and chickadees, but some he doesn't know. They're loud and wild-sounding, and once a vast shadow sweeps over them. Steve looks up, but he doesn't see what cast it.</p><p>"Do I need to be worried about giant hawks or owls?" he asks Bucky.</p><p>"No," Bucky says. "I mean, yes, they exist, but most of the really big birds hunt in the canopy.”</p><p>Steve looks up again like his gaze could pierce the thick, large foliage. "What's in the canopy?"</p><p>"All manner of things, I imagine." Bucky sounds a little wistful. "No one's ever gotten up there, that I know of. I don't know how you do it. You'd need so much rope…" He trails off, looking up. "I'd love to have the time to try, one day."</p><p>They keep walking, and Steve tries to take in everything around him. There are jewel-bright beetles clinging to the bark of a tree, their carapaces shiny and bright, iridescent in the light.</p><p>"What are those?" he asks quietly.</p><p>Bucky turns to look. "Treasure bugs. You've got a good eye." His hand drifts to the knife at his belt, and then he shakes his head. "These are all juveniles. If we see older ones, I'd take some back—people make jewelry out of the shells—but I don't want to take the young ones. Plus they're heavy. Maybe if we see them on our way out."</p><p>Steve snorts, and they keep walking. Some things give him a strange feeling. He sees shadowy, red-black fur darting away into the underbrush ahead of them, which Bucky tells him is the tail of a dark fox. Even though he only saw the vanishing curl of the animal's tail, it delights him. He thinks he'd like to see more of the fox if he could. On the other hand, when he sees glossy green vines with enticing pink blossoms, it makes him feel sick in the pit of his stomach, and when he points them out to Bucky, Bucky says, "Creeper vines. You don't want to run into those. They'll tangle you up and send you to sleep, then slowly digest your body."</p><p>"Terrifying," Steve murmurs. He thinks that even if Bucky hadn't been here to tell him what they were, there's something deeply off-putting about them.</p><p>"You hate to think of the person who first ran into them," Bucky says. "My family's got generations of notes on the plants and animals of the forest, but it still helped to have my parents show me what's safe and what's dangerous in here. Those flowers put out a scent that catches most people a little funny, draws them in."</p><p>Steve takes in a deep breath, reveling in the easy expansion of his lungs. He wrinkles his nose immediately. "Really? They kind of smell like they're rotting."</p><p>Bucky's eyes widen, and he breathes in conspicuously. "Huh. Still smells delicious to me."</p><p>"Guess I've got unusual tastes," Steve says, but something about the way Bucky's eyes narrow makes him uneasy. Maybe Bucky's seeing him a little differently. Maybe that's inevitable, as different as he suddenly looks, but he doesn't like to think of it. Bucky is his best friend, his oldest friend, and he can't stand the thought of that changing, especially over something he has no control over. </p><p>They walk in silence for a while, a silence no different than what they'd been walking in most of the day, but it feels more charged to Steve. Loaded. Or maybe that's just because he can't stop worrying the thought of it over and over in his head, of Bucky seeing him differently than he always had. </p><p>He doesn't think he did, not when they were worrying about practicalities of how to clothe Steve, but this—Steve seeing or experiencing things differently than Bucky does—maybe this is the thing that breaks them. He doesn't want to think it. He certainly doesn't want to live it.</p><p>He tries to put it out of his mind. There will be plenty of time to worry about it later—time when they're not walking through a forest full of things that want to kill them, whether Steve can sense them too well or not.</p><p>They can't really see the sun, but the shadows are starting to get longer when Steve feels eyes on him. The hair on the back of his neck stands up, and he doesn't know how he knows, but he can feel someone watching him, weighing him. He reaches out and puts a hand on Bucky's forearm, and Bucky freezes immediately.</p><p>"I think we're being watched," Steve whispers, even though he feels dumb about it, and Bucky turns in a slow circle, staring into the underbrush. Even so, it's actually Steve who spots the eyes watching them, glowing faintly in the lowering dusk. </p><p>"Oh," Bucky breathes and goes very still. Steve turns to follow the line of his gaze, and then he freezes too, because there, by the edge of the river, a white doe is staring at them, faintly glowing in the dim forest light. Her eyes, Steve notes absently, are a very striking shade of blue.<br/>
"I've only ever seen them twice," Bucky whispers. "In all the years I've been coming here—twice. And then you come looking, and it's like they want to be found."’</p><p>Something shifts inside Steve, a little uneasily, something that has been wondering why Pierce sent him, of all people. But the doe is beautiful, and she's looking right at him, so he lets that thought slide away. She walks in slow, stately steps toward them, her gaze never leaving Steve. He finds he's holding his breath, not wanting to do anything that might upset her or drive her away.</p><p>Bucky, next to him, is as still as a ranger and marksman like himself can be. The doe doesn't hesitate, and as she comes closer, Steve can see that she's much bigger than the little whitetails that can be found in the more boring forests by the town.</p><p>She steps closer, then closer still, picking her way through the rocks and leaf mold until she's close enough that it would take no more than four or five paces for Steve to walk forward and touch her. He doesn't, of course. Something about her makes him think that that would be a truly stupid move her nostrils flare, inhaling deeply, and Steve can't help but feel that she is breathing in his scent specifically, for whatever reason. Bucky next to him is nearly quaking with excitement and adrenaline, but he stays just the still</p><p>The doe nods her head gravely, and Steve almost thinks that she's greeting him, and then she turns and walks back into the trees. She stops and looks over her shoulder at the edge of the clearing as if to say, <i>"Well? Aren't you following me?"</i></p><p>"I think she wants us to follow us, Buck," Steve says.</p><p>"This is like something out of a tale," Bucky breathes. "All right, let's follow her." The deer starts walking even before they move, and they follow in her tracks. She stays close to the river at first, but as the sun is getting lower, she starts moving away from it, deeper into the woods.</p><p>"I don't like this," Bucky says, frowning. One of the deer's ears flicks back at them as he speaks.</p><p>"Bucky," Steve says and turns his gaze on his friend. "When are we ever going to have another chance like this?."</p><p>Bucky meets Steve's gaze, and all Steve can see for sure in his expression is concern, and he definitely knows better than Steve how much there is to be concerned about here, but whatever he reads in Steve's face seems to convince him.</p><p>"You're right. This is further than I thought we'd get and faster than I thought we’d  get there. Let's see where she leads us."</p><p>They follow her into the woods. The shine of her white coat gleams in the low light even when<br/>
they lose sight of her. And she must really want them to follow her, because when they lose her, she stops and waits for them. She looks back over her shoulder, and her expression is so regal, even on a deer's face, but it catches at something in Steve's chest. He's an artist, and he loves beautiful things, but it's not just that. She has a gravitas that not even the obvious weight of her magic can account for, and Steve doesn't know what it means that it resonates with him so strongly, but he guesses he doesn't need to know.</p><p>They follow the doe into the deeper woods, although she stays pretty close to the water. Steve can practically see the tension in Bucky's shoulders unwind when they can hear it, and he knows that straying from the parts of the woods that Bucky is familiar with is making him tense. With Becca's charm, they can't really get the kind of lost there's no coming back from, but it's equally true that there will be more and different dangers when they leave the parts of the woods that Bucky knows.</p><p>"We're going to have to stop soon," Bucky says worriedly, when the dusk is getting dimmer.<br/>
"We'll need light to set up camp."</p><p>Steve bites his lip; if it were up to him, he thinks he probably just tried to press on through the night, the hell with it. For all Steve's musings about how he's changed, Bucky's still able to read him like a book. "We are not going through the night," he says firmly. "No. There are things to come out at night that I'm not really prepared for us to deal with, and even just stuff we can't see, holes in the trail, could leave us with an injury that will keep us from going anywhere. If we lose her trail, we'll just try and find it again in the morning."</p><p>The doe stops at the sound of their voices, looking back over her shoulder at them. Her chin dips, like she understands them, Steve thinks a little wildly, and she turns on the narrow trail and starts picking her way back to them. But what she was going to do, Steve will never know, because at that moment something screeches in the distance, and all three of their heads whip in the direction the sound came from. The doe’s hears swivel forward, then back, and she huffs a short, sharp breath and bounds the last few steps towards them.</p><p>It's much closer than she's been before, and Bucky grabs Steve's arm, holding him still. It's a warning he doesn't need, although he thinks, based on what, exactly, he couldn't say, that she means them no harm. She presses forward, crowding them until they have to move or risk her stepping on them. She snorts again, as if to say <i>finally,</i> and starts herding them down the trail at a brisk jog. Steve's once again grateful for whatever caused this transformation, because he'd have been exhausted and short of breath in minutes carrying the heavy pack.</p><p>The doe leads them down a trail that's hardly more than flattened undergrowth, and they spread through trees, trying to stay careful in the gloom. Whatever it is in the distance calls out again, and it sounds vicious—it sounds hungry. They pick up the pace as best they are able, until Steve sees a dim light shining through the trees. But it's not only a distant light shining, he realizes; the doe gleams with a pale light of her own, like moonlight reflected in the mirror.</p><p>"Bucky," he gasps between panted breaths.</p><p>"I see," Bucky says in a tone of voice somewhere between fear and awe. The thing calls out again behind them, and it sounds closer.</p><p>"What is it," Steve says.</p><p>"Hellpigs," Bucky says. "Again. I've never run into this many."</p><p>The doe surges forward as if to say <i>stop talking,</i> and presses them to the left again. They break through the trees, and if Steve weren't being chased by giant man-eating pigs, he would stop to marvel.</p><p>There's a stand of enormous trees ahead of them, and wreathed around some of the trunks are the strange elder cousins of some of the shelf fungus he's seen growing around trees near Bucky's house. These are immense, forming platforms around the broad trunks of the trees. They glow, lit from within by bright swirls of blue, green, and purple. Steve's never seen anything like it. Vines tangle around the bark and the fungus, dark scribbles where they blot out the light.<br/>
Bucky puts on a fresh burst of speed, sprinting toward the tree, with Steve at his heels. Bucky launches himself up the tree, finding toeholds in the thick bark, grabbing handfuls of vines and pulling himself up. He reaches back and extends a hand toward Steve, and Steve pulls himself up next to him. The two of them clamber together, steadying each other where the vine pulls away from the bark, pointing out toe- or handholds in curt, hurried whispers. Steve glances back over his shoulder to see the doe's tail flashing as she bounds away deeper into the woods. He's grateful to her for leading them to this hasty refuge, even while he feels a pang that she's leaving.</p><p>"Hold tight for a second," Bucky says when they reach the bottom of the shelf. He pulls himself backward, not quite parallel with the ground now far below them, and inches his way over the shelf. Steve's heart is in his throat, watching, pleading with the universe that Bucky's grip is sure, that the vines are secure, that the weight of his pack doesn't pull him over backwards. He watches the shift of the muscles in Bucky's arms and shoulders, the grimace of concentration and strain that pulls his lips away from his teeth. Steve doesn't want to say anything, in case he distracts him, but there's a far worse distraction. The crunch of breaking wood and a bellowing cry come from behind them. Steve tightens his grip on the bark in front of him and twists his head around, just in time to see a monstrous snout and shoulders forcing its way through the trees.</p><p>Steve has heard Bucky's stories about the hellpigs his entire life, and of course, like every child in town, he's heard them listed as one of the horrors of the forest, and a sound reason not stray there. But it's different seeing them now, trampling the ground at the bottom of the tree, wide snouts snuffling as they take in his and Bucky's scents. There are three of them, circling the trunk of the tree. They're enormous, and if they're cousins of the little pigs that some people keep in town, they're surely very distant ones. Their hides are thick and covered with short, bristly hair. Two tusks jut out from their snouts, and Steve's hard-pressed to put a size on them, but he thinks each tusk might be the length of his forearm.</p><p>He turns his head back to check Bucky's progress, and sees Bucky pushing himself up over the edge, feet scrabbling on the hard rim of the fungus. He disappears from Steve's view as he gets over the lip. All Steve can do is cling and hope that Bucky will help him over. It's possible that his new, stronger body could propel him over the edge like that, but he just doesn't know.<br/>
The tree shudders, and he grips the vines so hard his knuckles ache, bracing his feet against the bark. When he looks down, he could swear that one of the pigs has got its beady eyes focused right on him. It takes a step back and head butts the tree again. "Spirits," Steve mutters under his breath, shaken by the blind animal fury that he sees—or projects—into the animal's expression.</p><p>Bucky's head reappears over the edge of the shelf. "Fuck," he says, loud enough for Steve to hear, seeing the beasts below them. "Hang on, Steve, I'm throwing you a rope." </p><p>A second later, a rope slithers over the edge, falling free into the air. Steve's not sure how he's going to reach it.</p><p>"Get as close as you can to the underside of the fungus," Bucky says. "I'll swing the rope to you."</p><p>The tree shudders again as the boar attacks it, and Steve takes a deep breath. He tries to shut out the fact that there are giant monsters that seem to specifically want him and Bucky, and focuses instead on the obstacles in front of him. His muscles are already straining from climbing this high up the tree, but he's really worried about his grip. His fingers are trembling already from clinging to the bark, but he tries to ride the surge of adrenaline courtesy of the monsters on the forest floor, and pushes his way up.</p><p>His hands aren't hurting any less, but he's surprised all over again at his own strength, muscles coiling and releasing as he pushes himself to the edge of the overhang. He grips tightly with his left hand, and it only takes a few tries of Bucky swinging the rope blindly in his direction for him to get a hold of it. Bucky's head and shoulders are over the lip of the fungus, and he's holding the rope tightly. Steve just hopes it's anchored somewhere else also.</p><p>It takes him a second to make himself let go of the tree and get both hands on the rope, but he does it, and then it's a matter of walking himself up the side of the tree. His hands tighten on the rope, moving up handhold by handhold. His pack is a dead weight on his back, but he adjusts for it. The only really bad moment is when the hellpig rams the tree again, and Steve's feet slip. </p><p>For an instant, he's dangling on the rope, his grip all that stands between himself and a fall thirty feet to the ground. His feet scrabble against the bark, desperately searching for a toehold, and when he finds it, he's able to swing his other foot up and take most of his weight that way. He looks up, and catches Bucky's gaze, his eyes wide and frightened looking, his face pale in the almost complete dark. He pushes against the underside of the fungus, finds a knot of vines that will bear his weight, and pushes himself up as far as he can go.</p><p>
  
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  <p> <b>art:</b> Steve and Bucky climb the tree <b>art by:</b> the_genderman </p>
</div>Bucky's hands lock around his forearms, and Bucky pulls him until he can grab the shoulder straps of his pack. Bucky yanks, and Steve comes over the edge of the fungus, collapsing on top of Bucky, shaking with exertion and reaction. They both just heave and breathe for a moment, trying to take in the fact that neither one of them is pig food. Steve braces his hands against the fungus, and pushes back to get a look at Bucky.<p>The light bathes him in a soft wash of colors, his hair reflecting up purple, a stripe of pink against his cheekbone, his eyes somehow picking up every iota of blue and reflecting them back at Steve.</p><p>Bucky's face is familiar to Steve, more familiar than his own, even before his changed, but seeing him bathed in the light like this is somehow like seeing him anew all over again. He looks almost otherworldly in the light, beautiful and rare. Their faces are close, so close that the ragged gasps that are slowly evening out have them breathing in the same air. <i>Close enough to kiss,</i> Steve thinks absently, and then wonders why he thought it.</p><p>He clears his throat. "Sorry, I'm probably crushing you." He rolls to the side, off of Bucky. It feels wrong—it feels like he should be touching him, should be pressing his body into him. It's probably some kind of reaction to the adrenaline, Steve thinks, his body wanting it to prove that it's alive, that he made it through.</p><p>The tree shakes again, and Bucky curses.</p><p>"I was really hoping out of sight would be out of mind," he says. He starts untying the rope he'd thrown down to Steve from where he'd tied it to a piece of tree bark as big as a shield. His fingers move quickly and deftly over the rope, picking apart the knot.</p><p>Steve makes himself look away from Bucky's hands to their surroundings. The shelf fungus wraps around the trunk of the tree, and up the trunk it connects to other swathes of the fungus even higher, across a branch that arches out toward another tree. Steve can see more of the glowing fungus, lights gleaming in the darkness.</p><p>"Do you think we can get over there?" he asks Bucky. Bucky looks up, hands automatically coiling the rope into a loop without needing the direction of his eyes.</p><p>"That's a good thought, I think we can do it." Their perch shakes again, and he stows the rope in his pack. He buckles it closed and shrugs into the straps. "We're gonna have to climb."</p><p>Steve looks down at his hands, the palms already torn from their earlier flight, scraped and sore. He sighs.</p><p>The hour that follows looms like a century when Steve looks back on it. The two of them are reduced to nothing but physical exertion and mind-numbing fear.  Following the curve of the shelf fungus isn't bad at all, but getting from the fungus to the branch is agonizing. Crossing from tree to tree on the narrow branch is downright terrifying. Steve tries to tell himself that he's walked on paths far narrower than this one, but on those paths, he didn't have to worry about a misstep that would send him plunging to his death, and he didn't walk those paths in nothing but the pale distant light of a glowing fungus. The sounds of the forest at night do nothing to ease his fears, full as they are of the sounds of animals moving below them, and strange birds calling in the distance. Moths the size of eagles swoop across their path, uncannily silent, pale and strangely beautiful.</p><p>The worst moment is the jump from the branch of their original tree to the branch of their destination tree. It's not so far, Steve thinks later, but far enough that the possibility of missing was all too palpable.</p><p>By the interminable end of it, though, they’re crouched together on a shelf of glowing fungus much like the one they'd started on, but—and this is the crucial difference—on a tree that does not have murderous hellpigs out for their blood headbutting its base. The fungus tilts enough that neither one of them can fall out, a secure little nest away from all the dangers of the forest. They're both of them sweating and exhausted, shoulders aching, legs trembling. Bucky shrugs out of his pack, and Steve follows suit.</p><p>They set up camp, such as it is. They pull out their sleeping rolls, but the shelf is narrow enough that it doesn't make much sense to try to establish two sleeping sites. Instead they pile all their bedding together, and then Bucky pulls out a pot, a packet of food, and one of Becca's charms, and cooks a hasty meal for them.</p><p>It's not the bes- tasting thing that Steve has ever eaten, but it might be the most welcome. It's hot, and filling, and the tremors running through his limbs abate as he eats. He and Bucky sit side-by-side, legs pressed against each other, thigh to thigh, and Steve thinks that the comfort of that touch is as great as the comfort of the meal, and knowing they're safe.</p><p>Once they've eaten, and washed themselves as best they can, they pile into the bed rolls. They had slept curled up against each other the night before, and Steve doesn't see any reason why they shouldn't sleep up against each other tonight, after everything they've been through. Bucky makes sure that Steve's against the tree, with Bucky between him and the lip of the fungus, and the drop to the earth below. The angle is so steep, Steve argues, that it doesn't matter which one of them sleeps on the edge, because they would only roll back against the other one. Bucky listens to his arguments, his brow furrowed and his jaw set, and then absolutely ignores all of them, and puts Steve closest to the trunk of the tree. It's annoying, and frustrating, and also very endearing, so Steve doesn't argue as hard as he might have.</p><p>Instead, he sets his back to the trunk of the tree, trying to ignore all the lumps and protuberances under their bed rolls, and slings his arm over Bucky's waist.</p><p>"Steve," Bucky said, and there's something hesitant in his voice, something that Steve can't quite identify. He hadn't thought about his worries that Bucky might not like him as well now that he was different, but they all come roosting back to him now.</p><p>"What is it, Buck?" he says. He can't help the tension that runs through his body, and he only hopes Bucky can't feel it in the set of his arm, the line of his spine.</p><p>Bucky's body relaxes against him, and he lets his spine loosen, and his back ease into the shelter of Steve's chest. Steve can't help tightening his grip around him at the feel of it. </p><p>"Nothing," Bucky says after a long moment. "I'm glad we made it. I'm glad we’re okay." He turns his head, just enough that Steve can see the sharp line of his jaw and his cheekbone, illuminated by the soft glow of the fungus around him. "You were right. When you said that we should follow the deer—she was more than just an animal. She had a plan; she had a purpose. You were right."</p><p>Steve spreads his hands flat over Bucky's sternum. He lets himself feel the pulse of Bucky's blood, the steady beat of his heart. "You were right, too. It is dangerous out here, especially in places you don't know. I'm glad we made it okay."</p><p>Bucky's pulse seems to speed under his touch, but surely that's his imagination; a reaction to the night they've had. "Goodnight, Buck," Steve whispers.</p><p>"Goodnight, Steve," Bucky says. Steve breathes in the familiar smell of him and tries to settle down. His hands sting and his muscles ache, but nonetheless, he falls asleep quickly.</p><p>When he wakes up to Bucky's startled gasp, it's because he's glowing.</p>
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<a name="section0005"><h2>5. five</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which our heroes find the doe and have a discussion about expectations.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In this chapter, we earn the explicit rating--if that's not something you want to read, skip from "in one fluid motion..." to "you're amazing."  :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It's not easy to fall asleep with the best friend you're in love with spooning you, but Bucky manages somehow, despite his racing heart and the adrenaline still surging through that says <em>turn over, press your lips to Steve's, prove that you're both still alive.</em> As it is, he just thanks the spirits that Steve's pressed against his back, not vice versa, because Steve won't wake up with Bucky's boner pressed to his ass, on the off chance that Bucky wakes up hard, which...it seems likely.</p><p>The glow from the fungus bathes them both in multicolored light that Bucky can see against the insides of eyelids when he shuts his eyes. He doesn't fall asleep thinking of the way Steve's pale hair had picked up the colors of the lights. He doesn't drift off hyperfocused on Steve's arm, warm and solid around him. He absolutely doesn't fall asleep taking comfort in the smell of Steve around him like a blanket.</p><p>Okay fine, he does.</p><p>But when he wakes up, it's not to thoughts of the person who most feels like home, nor to the mortification of unwelcome boners. It's to a distant sound, a bird call, maybe. He's used to waking up to random noises when he's camping in the forest, because that's just the nature of even unmagical woods. Weird noises don't bother him, and this was probably just an owl somewhere off in the night; he usually goes right back to sleep as soon as he's sure it's not a threat.</p><p>But what keeps him up is the fact that there's something else glowing besides the shelf fungus they're resting on. The only part of Steve he can see right now is the arm carelessly flung over his side, but Steve's skin is emitting a faint, silvery light, like he's bathed in moonlight, or starlight, even though the canopy above them blocks out any possibility of that. He turns slowly, trying not to wake Steve, and Steve's arms tighten around him as he moves. It feels—well, it feels nicer than it has any right to. "Idiot," he mutters to himself just as he gets turned around.</p><p>Two things happen. One, he's able to confirm that yes indeed, Steve is glowing all over, like Bucky's own personal night light, and two, that soft sound is enough to wake Steve, who sleepily blinks his eyes and says, "Who's an idiot? Me?"</p><p>"Not this time," Bucky says. "Go back to sleep."</p><p>But Steve blinks again, coming more awake. From this close, with that strange moonlight shine coming off of him, Bucky's able to see his confusion as his eyes open. He's also able to see that his eyes have their own glow, a faint blue coming off Steve's irises.</p><p>"What the fuck?" Steve says, and he suddenly sounds very awake indeed. "What's happened to me?"</p><p>"I don't know," Bucky says, "but you're glowing."</p><p>"I can see that." Steve sits up, disentangling himself from Bucky's arms, much to Bucky's regret.</p><p>Steve glares down at his shining hands, then pulls his borrowed shirt right off to inspect his torso. Bucky's breath catches. He's so damn beautiful, like a marble statue in moonlight, only all too clearly flesh and soft skin. Steve heaves in a deep breath, then another, and Bucky can see that even though waking up a giant the night before hadn't thrown him, this is making him panic.</p><p>"Steve, hey, it's okay." Bucky drops a hand onto Steve's back and rubs it in what he hopes are comforting circles.</p><p>"Is it? How the fuck would you know?" Steve's breath catches on know, and Bucky leans over and pulls him close the way he's done a thousand times before, even if the angle is different now.</p><p>"Does it hurt?"</p><p>"No." Steve takes a deep breath. "No. It doesn't hurt any more than waking up tall did. I don't understand any of it, but it doesn't hurt."</p><p>"Okay, good." Bucky pulls in a deep, deliberate breath, trying to get Steve to mimic him. He can feel Steve's heart racing underneath the palm of his hand. "There's nothing we can do about it at the moment, and panicking won't help."</p><p>"I'm not panicking," Steve snaps, but Bucky thinks it's more reflex than anything else.</p><p>"We should try to get some sleep," Bucky says. "We can look for the doe again tomorrow, or now that we know that the deer travel these trails, we can look for shed antlers by the river. When we get home, we'll get Becca to take a look at you. What she doesn't know about magic, she knows how to find out." And, Bucky thinks, he wants to know why Pierce wanted to send Steve into the forest, what exactly he knew about Steve—had he known that this or something like it, would happen?</p><p>Steve lies back down, turning into Bucky with a heavy sigh that makes Bucky want to pull him into his arms, not that it would solve his problems, of course. It would make Bucky feel better, anyway. "I don't think I'm going to be able to fall asleep after this," he says, and there's a weight in his voice that Bucky hates.</p><p>"Can I do anything to help?" he says, voice softer than he means it to be. But it feels right for the gently-glowing cocoon of the two of them in the darkness, alone together, surrounded by a mostly-hostile environment, but safe, for the moment at least.</p><p>"I don't know," Steve says, and he looks different, but his voice is the same, and the reluctance to admit that he might want help is certainly the same.</p><p>Bucky wishes he had some better comfort to offer, but all he has is himself, for whatever theat;s worth. Still, when he hesitantly spreads his arms wide, Steve comes in to them, and they lay back down holding each other.</p><p>"You'll be okay," Bucky says, wishing it was actually in his power to promise that. Steve knows just as well as Bucky that it's not something he can assure him of, but he doesn't say anything contradictory, for once in his life, just burrows into Bucky's side like he needs the support. Bucky aches for him, but there's nothing he can do.</p><p>Despite what Steve said, he falls asleep quickly, and it's Bucky who's left wakeful, looking at Steve's faint glow, listening to the steady thump of his heart.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
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</div><p>They sleep late, unsurprisingly, and when they wake, golden light is filtering through the canopy, and there's no sign of the hellpigs below, just trampled ground around the roots of the tree they started in.</p><p>They make their way down cautiously; they're much higher up in the trees than Bucky usually goes, and he keeps an eye out for anything interesting he might be able to take back to Becca. There's a climbing vine with flowers that he doesn't recognize. He reaches into the neckline of his shirt and pulls out the charm that looks like nothing so more than smooth polished glass. When he looks through it, he sees a faint shimmer around the flowers, as though he was watching them through heat haze, so he knows there's something magical about them. Curious, he turns the lens on Steve, too, ignoring his friend's scowl as he does so.</p><p>"What does that do?" Steve demands.</p><p>Bucky pulls the flowers down, wraps them in a length of preserving cloth, and folds them into his pack. He drops the charms on their chain back under his collar. "It tells me if something's magic," he says.</p><p>Steve scowl deepens. "And?"</p><p>Bucky laughs despite himself. "Steve, you grew a foot overnight and then you started glowing. What do you think it tells me?"</p><p>Steve’s frown clears into a sheepish smile, and they eat a breakfast of flatbread, smoked meat, and dried fruit, before tackling the descent to the forest floor. If they were closer, Bucky might try free climbing down, but it's too far, and he doesn't like the thought of what would happen should either of them slip. The end of his rope is charmed to adhere without knots, although he usually anchors it to something anyway as a precaution. But the rope's too valuable to leave behind them—just look at how many times they've used it already on this trip—so he's going to have to trust in Becca's charm. The rope's not long enough to reach all the way to the forest floor, either; he figures he's going to have to reset it at least once.</p><p>Once they're all packed up, he sets the charm, wishing he'd thought to bring a climbing harness, and begins lowering himself down, feet braced against the tree bark. He gets to a lower shelf of fungus, and decides it's as good a place as any to reset for the next part of their descent. He calls up to Steve, who sends their packs sliding down the rope, and then begins his own climb down. It's nervewracking, watching from below. It's not that Steve doesn't move smoothly and gracefully, but Bucky can't get out of his head the fact that even though he's taller and more muscular all of a sudden he's still never done this before, and experience is vital. But Steve makes his way down without any issues, and they repeat the entire process until they're both standing on the ground, rope safely stowed away, packs on and ready to go. Bucky rolls his shoulders and flexes his hands, both of which are sore. Steve is wincing too, and Bucky remembers that his palms were already torn up the night before. He makes a note to put some salve on both their hands when they stop for the night. It's foolish to ignore a minor injury and let it worsen.</p><p>"What now?" Steve asks.</p><p>"There's no sense looking for prints on the ground where those hellpigs were last night," Bucky says. "I think I remember which way the doe went, though. We might be able to pick up her tracks further in the trees. If not, then I guess we scout up the river and cross our fingers."</p><p>Steve nods, his face bravely determined, even after the night they had. Affection surges in Bucky's chest, so strong he has to clear his throat, because it's just like Steve. No hellpigs or a glowing fungus or glowing <em>self</em> is going to stop him when he's determined about something, and that's true whether he's shorter than Bucky or not.</p><p>Bucky leads them in the general direction he thought he saw the doe flee last night, and starts sweeping the area carefully, looking for any trace of her. He's prepared to quarter the area thoroughly—she'd been leaping away pretty fast, so her tracks would be pretty far spaced, even if deep, and she might leave tufts of fur in the undergrowth—but he hardly has to look at all before he finds a very clear set of tracks. If it's not the doe, it's a deer very close to her size.</p><p>These tracks were not made by a running animal, though; they're far too close together. And all of them are strangely clear, as though the deer preferred to step in mud and soft ground rather than walk in a straight line. Bucky's never seen anything like it.</p><p>He stands over the tracks, frowning, until Steve comes up to him.</p><p>"What is it?" he asks, voice low.</p><p>"Well, tracks," Bucky says, "and I've never seen an animal leave ones like this before. It's like she wanted us to find these."</p><p>"Maybe she did," Steve says, his eyebrows drawing together into that set of clear concern. Bucky has always loved the lines the expression leaves on his forehead. "Can't say she was behaving like an ordinary animal yesterday."</p><p>"No," Bucky says slowly. "It's just… I don't know, Steve, I don't trust it. I keep wondering—did Pierce know what was going to happen to you when you got here? Is this part of some larger plan?"</p><p>Steve's chin lifts and he sets his jaw in an all-too familiar way, and Bucky braces himself for an argument, but then Steve shoulders slump a little. "I don't know. I don't know what his motivations were, and I don't trust it. But I just keep thinking about his daughter, and if I really can do something to help, then I want to."</p><p>"Of course you do," Bucky says. "Never met a cause you didn't want to take on, and I know telling you 'Steve, no,' has only ever made you want to do anything harder."</p><p>Steve flushes. "I just want to help. And it seems like this way I can."</p><p>Bucky nods shortly, then nudges Steve with his elbow to let him know he understands. "All right. The way I see it, we got a couple of choices: follow these tracks knowing that it might be some kind of trap, or keep on along the river, because we know that this is territory that the deer pass through, and we might be able to look for fallen antlers or something."</p><p>"I think we should follow the tracks," Steve says, because of course he does if it comes down to it, Bucky hadn't been expecting anything different.</p><p>"All right," he says. "We'll follow the tracks, we'll just also be really careful."</p><p>"Of course, Buck," says Steven Hypocrite Rogers, who has never been careful in his life. Bucky just shakes his head and follows the trail.</p><p>Bucky follows the trail, because he has experience in this kind of thing, but the fact of the matter is that Steve could easily follow it. A child could follow this trail, possibly a child who’d been blindfolded. Tracks navigate around every big rock, every dry expanse where Bucky might have expected to lose them. The trail leads them deeper into the woods, and it doesn't follow the river exactly, but Bucky can still hear it nearly all the time, and that comforts him. Even if this is a wild goose chase, they'll at least be able to camp near water. They stop for lunch around midday, sitting on rocks and resting their legs. They've seen animals from a distance but nothing dangerous, and nothing that Bucky wants to take the time to pursue.</p><p>"Do you really think it's a trap? The deer, I mean," Steve says once they've eaten their fill.</p><p>"I don't see how it could be," Bucky admits, "but I don't trust Pierce."</p><p>"Neither do I," Steve says. “I don’t know how he could've orchestrated something like this, not with one of the forest deer."</p><p>Bucky tries to imagine it, Pierce going deep in the forest to… What? Negotiate some kind of deal with animals of the forest to do something nefarious to a scribe from town? It beggars the imagination. For one thing, Pierce is rich and powerful enough that if he wanted to do something to Steve, he could just hire someone to do it. No, Bucky thinks he's playing a different game, and it bothers him that he can't see the shape of it and doesn't even know what kind of board they're on.</p><p>"Well, we can't do anything about it," Bucky says. "We'll just have to tread carefully, out here and back home."</p><p>Steve sighs. "I'll follow your lead."</p><p>Bucky reaches out and clasps Steve's wrist in a quick, tight grip. "I won't let anything happen to you if I can help it."</p><p>Steve shoots him a smile, and they gather their packs and start walking again.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>The light is starting to fade again when the tracks suddenly disappear. Bucky had gotten so used to the careful, almost meticulous way the trail had been laid that he hardly believes it for a moment. The trail just…ends. He sweeps the area, looking for a place where the deer might have bounded to harder, drier ground and he could pick up a trace of her, but it's like the animal suddenly vanished.</p><p>"Buck," Steve says behind him, examining the last set of tracks.</p><p>"I've never seen anything like this," Bucky says. "I seem to be saying that a lot."</p><p>"Even I can tell that this is weird," Steve murmurs.</p><p>Bucky looks around, trying to think of anything they've passed in the last half hour that might make a suitable campsite. It's getting dark, and he doesn't want them out in the open at night. There's nothing that looks good where they are—the trail's too narrow between the trees in the underbrush for them to lay their bed rolls down, and Bucky doesn't like the thought of hacking into it to clear a space. Just as he's come to the dispiriting conclusion that they need to backtrack and is about to open his mouth to tell Steve so, Steve's soft gasp gets his attention.</p><p>He looks up and the doe is standing close to them, just a few lengths down the trail. She looks at them with wide, luminous eyes that remind him inexorably of the way Steve had glowed the night before—and, Bucky sees, as the gloom intensifies, the way he’s still glowing.</p><p>The doe watches them until she's sure she has their full attention, then turns around and starts walking deeper into the forest. Steve and Bucky exchange glances and Bucky thinks—well, they've come this far. The two of them follow her wordlessly.</p><p>She waits until they've been following her perhaps a quarter of a mile, then stops in the middle of the trail and turns to face them. Steve and Bucky glance at each other, not sure what she means for them to do, and then turn back to her.</p><p>The glow around her intensifies. At first Bucky thinks he's imagining it, but then there's no questioning that the light around her flares. There's something like smoke, only made of light, all around her and it expands then contracts, and where the doe was, now a woman stands. She's lithe and muscular—Bucky wouldn't want to go up against her in, say, a wood chopping contest—and she's dressed in a style of clothing that Bucky's never seen. It's not trousers or skirt and shirts, and it's not like the restday frock that Becca's been working on for ages. Bucky wants to say it's more like a robe of some kind, of some finely-woven cloth stitched all over in geometric designs in bright colors. She looks from one to the other of them, her nostrils flaring almost like she's taking in their sense, which…maybe she is. Bucky doesn't know what the rules are for magic deer people. Like the doe—like Steve—she's faintly glowing.</p><p>"You have come seeking us, yes?" she says. She looks directly at Steve as she says it, and a faint shiver runs down Bucky's spine, he's not sure why.</p><p>"Yes," Steve says, a little uncertainly. "Or at least, I was sent."</p><p>"Sent," she repeats. Now her eyes do glance at Bucky. "By this one?"</p><p>"No, he's helping me," Steve says.</p><p>"You may come to the home of the people, by the claim you have on us," she says to Steve. "The other may not." She shrugs indifferently, as though she hadn't suggested leaving Bucky to his fate in the woods away from these people, whoever they are. As if she hadn't suggested splitting Steve and Bucky apart.</p><p>Steve looks from the woman to Bucky, incredulous. "No," he says. "He stays with me."</p><p>"He's not one of the people, not even as much as you are." She lifts an eyebrow. It's impressively judgemental. "Has he some claim on you?"</p><p>"We're married," Steve blurts out almost immediately. Bucky tries not to choke.</p><p><br/>Steve immediately closes the distance between them and puts his arm around Bucky. Bucky curses whatever impulse made Steve say this and leans in to him, trying to radiate domestic bliss. "And…what claim do I have on the people?" Steve says, more hesitantly.</p><p>The woman reaches out and catches his chin in her fingers, tilts his head from side to side. "Can you doubt? You are one of us. I felt it as soon as you set foot in the forest."</p><p>Steve sucks in a deep breath. "I didn't know."</p><p>"Then you have much to learn indeed," she says. She looks at Bucky and chews on her lip for just a second. It's by far the most human gesture that Bucky's seen her make. "Your mate may come as well."</p><p>Bucky heaves a sigh of relief and digs his hand into Steve's waist under the guise of an embrace. He doesn't know what's happening, but he knows they're finding a lot more than just an antler in the woods.</p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>The woman introduces herself to Steve—and really, he can't help but note it's just to Steve, not Bucky—as Maria. She leads them further and down the trail, and as she does, Steve sees signs of—not exactly cultivation the way it's practiced around town, but signs that people here are bending their environment to their whim: tree branches grafted and tied together so they grow to form lattices and archways, spaces between the enormous trees that are smooth, manicured grass, or orchards, or fields. As they come in closer, there are clear pathways and sinuous buildings. Deeper in, Steve notes buildings higher up the huge trees as well as on the ground, linked by spiraling stairs and bridges, all lit by flowering vines wreathed around balustrades and bannisters. It looks like a piece of the night sky come to settle on the ground.</p><p>"Starflowers," Bucky whispers in his ear. "I've never seen so many of them."</p><p>Maria casts a glance back at them over her shoulder, amused or disdainful, Steve can't quite tell. They start to see people on the paths: glowing deer, glowing humans, glowing humans, some of them in both shapes seeming to be stopped and having a conversation as they pass. Steve wonders if they all shift shape like Maria. He wonders if he could shift shape like Maria. It's a disquieting thought.</p><p>"The guest quarters are there," Maria murmurs, waving her hand toward a small building on the ground level. "Tomorrow, there will be time for you to meet your people."</p><p>Steve thanks her and she waves him and Bucky into the guest quarters. It's a small, but very pleasantly furnished building, with a small kitchen, a sitting area, pleasantly furnished building, with a small kitchen, a sitting area, a bedroom, and a bath off to the side. The furniture is like the architecture, much more sinuous than Steve is used to from Trowburne. The bed is a mattress on the floor, with no frame—more easily used by both shapes, Steve guesses—and the chairs are more like low cushions on the ground.</p><p>Bucky drops his pack to the floor and rolls his shoulders. Steve follows suit. He aches to explore the bath, suddenly feeling filthy and longing to wash the grime from his skin. Eager, if he has to admit it, to avoid the question Bucky must have, the question Steve has been asking himself since the words slipped from his mouth.</p><p>"Steve," Bucky says, very quietly, and Steve turns around to face his best friend. For a second he hopes they'll laugh about it, but he thinks he sees hurt in the creases around Bucky's eyes, and he can't stand that.</p><p>"Why did you say married?" Bucky says. He sinks down to one of the chairs and looks up at Steve. From this angle, he looks small. Steve's not used to that, and he doesn't like it. "Why didn't you say, I don't know." Bucky visibly casts around. "Brothers who grew up together. It's practically true."</p><p>"I don't know," Steve says slowly. "It was—it was the first thing that came to mind, Buck."</p><p>Bucky lets out a gusty sigh. "Okay. Okay, that's—well."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Steve says. It hadn't been something he'd expended any thought on; he had just said the first thing that occurred to him—a relationship that he was certain would keep Bucky from being left by himself in the forest. But he could've said brothers, now that he thinks about it. That's probably just as binding as a marriage or moreso, to most people. But despite the fact that he and Bucky had grown up with each other, had been best friends their whole lives, that wasn't the first thing he'd thought of. Weird.</p><p>Also a little weird is how upset Bucky is by it. Steve isn't quite entirely sure why. It seems like the kind of thing they might laugh about later—a few days pretending to be a couple doesn't seem like that big a deal to him. In fact, it sounds like it might be kind of fun. The closeness wouldn't be a problem—they'd slept together the last couple of nights, obviously, and they've done it many times in the past as well, when one or the other of them didn't want to go home after staying too late. He didn't think it was the kind of thing that would scare Bucky off—at least, not the being physically affectionate part of it. They were always touching each other, now that he thought about it—a friendly arm draped over the others shoulder both of them squished together on Steve's narrow sofa as Steve read out loud to Bucky… He didn't think that the deer people would require them to kiss to prove that they were close. The thought sends a curious shiver rolling through his gut, a frisson of…not anticipation, no. Nervousness? It didn't matter, he tells himself, since it wasn't like they'd be kissing, anyway.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Steve says. "I didn't think it through at all, and I certainly wasn't thinking about how uncomfortable or awkward it might be for us to pretend for a few days. I just didn't want them to abandon you."</p><p>Bucky's expression softens. "Well, it's not like I wanted them to separate us either. I just wish you'd thought of something else first. But if I have to pretend to be married to someone, I guess I'm glad it's you."</p><p>For some reason, the tentativeness of that statement sits a little wrong with Steve. He doesn't know why—it's not like he expects Bucky to be overjoyed by the ridiculous situation they find themselves in, it's just that he guesses he thinks it'll be a little more fun, and he doesn't quite understand why Bucky doesn't think so.</p><p>It doesn't matter, anyway. They just have to get through the next couple of days and then everything will be just fine. He hopes so, anyway.</p><p>"I hope that they'll be able to help us," Steve says. "It's really weird to think that I might be one of them."</p><p>"Weird, sure," Bucky says slowly. "But I guess it's not completely impossible. Your mom never told you anything about your father."</p><p>"I know," Steve says, swallowing around the lump in his throat.</p><p>All Sarah had ever told him was that his father had had to leave her to go back to his home. Steve had always thought that maybe it was another town far away, or possibly even the capital. He had known that it would have to be somewhere very far to keep anyone from coming back to his mother. When he had gotten a little older he had wondered if there was some deep philosophical difference that had kept his father from returning to Sarah Rogers, or if he was just a wastrel who'd fathered a child and then left, not caring what became of it or the woman he'd abandoned. Sarah had never really told him very much, and he supposes now he knows why. Hell, if his father had been one of these seemingly very secretive people, he might not have told Sarah very much to begin with. Steve shakes his head, trying to clear his thoughts. It's probably too much to hope that Maria or her people know who his father is. "Do you think I'll be able to change shape, like Maria did?" he asks.</p><p>Bucky shoots him a strange look. "Steve, you kind of already did."</p><p>"Oh," Steve says, and then chokes out a laugh, looking down at his hands. "Yeah—I guess I did. Huh." He hadn't thought about it that way, had accepted it all maybe a little too easily. Bucky had been more shaken by his transformation than he himself had, and he doesn't know why that is, if maybe it's because movement felt so easy and this new shape felt like it fit him as comfortably as the one he'd worn the rest of his life. But it had been a transformation, and he is changed.</p><p>Bucky leans forward and puts a hand on his knee. The familiar touch is a comfort to him, always. "You okay there?"</p><p>Steve manages a nod. "Yeah, just—caught me there for a second. I meant, I wonder if I'll be able to do it on purpose."</p><p>"Maybe they'll be able to help you," Bucky says, his irritation, if not forgotten, then set to the side. "I mean, in addition to the antler for Pierce's daughter."</p><p>Steve lets out a long breath. In the excitement of the day, he had nearly forgotten their original purpose. "Yeah. I hope so." He bites his lip, then glances at Bucky. "Hey, you want the bathroom first? I figure we should get cleaned up while we get the chance."</p><p>Bucky's gaze drops to his hands. "You go ahead. I'll fix us something to eat."</p><p>"All right," Steve says, and flees to the bathroom.</p><p>He isn't sure what he expected—perhaps a basin and pitcher—but it's not the case at all. There's a low pool, tiled in shades of blue and green. A small trickle of steaming water comes into the pool, a tiny waterfall of hot water. Steve dips a hand into the pool; it's warm, just on the verge of too hot. He suddenly feels every speck of dirt and sweat on his skin, and the thought of being clean is too tempting to resist. He strips out of his clothes and gets into the pool, resolving to wash them later.</p><p>He sinks in, unable to repress a groan as the hot water makes him feel every scrape on his hands and legs, every muscle sore from climbing and walking. The heat sinks in under his skin, relaxing his muscles as he slides lower. There are seats of varying heights and widths in the water, and he finds one with the perfect height. The pool is big enough for him to paddle lazily over it, ducking his hair under the water and scrubbing vigorously at his face.</p><p>It's only as he resurfaces that he realizes that he doesn't have soap or a towel or a change of clothes or anything, because their packs are in the other room. He rubs his hand thoughtfully over his jaw, a little surprised at how stubbly it feels; he's not used to shaving more than about once a week. Well, his choices are walk naked and dripping into the next room, or...</p><p>"Bucky," Steve calls out.</p><p>"Mmmph," comes the reply from the next room.</p><p>"I'm sorry," Steve says, pitching his voice for Bucky to hear. "Can you bring me my pack? I forgot it."</p><p>Bucky heaves a loud, put-upon sigh, but he comes around the corner with Steve's pack in his hands a moment later. He stops dead in his tracks and stares, the steam from the water putting a faint flush across his cheekbones already .</p><p>"I know," Steve says, sitting up in the pool. "It's amazing, isn't it?" Steve leans forward and kicks off, crossing the pool in just a few strokes. "I've never seen anything like it. You could fit a family in here. In fact," Steve goes on, a strange feeling of anticipation curling in the bottom of his gut, "there's no reason for you to wait to get clean, if you don't want to. There's more than enough room for us to share." Steve leans on the edge of the tiled pool, resting his chin on his crossed arms and looking up at Bucky.</p><p>Bucky looks down at him. His blue eyes are wide, the pupils dilated. He takes a deep breath, and then another, as if he's just run somewhere very fast instead of only carrying Steve's pack from one room to another. "Bucky?" Steve says uncertainly.</p><p>"I can't do this anymore," Bucky says.</p><p>Steve sits up in alarm, water splashing around him. "What do you mean?"</p><p>Bucky looks down, almost involuntarily it seems, and then his gaze snaps back up to Steve's face, his cheeks stained a darker red than before. "I don't think—I don't think we should pretend to be married, and I definitely shouldn't take a bath with you."</p><p>Steve's heart constricts in his chest, sudden and painful. They'd taken baths with each other before, or at least gone to the bathhouse together, and he'd seen enough of Bucky in various states of undress over the years to know that casual nudity didn't bother him. Unless maybe it was something about Steve's larger body that was bothering him. Steve's heart gives a strange, sideways lurch, and his stomach drops.</p><p>"I'll just leave your things here," Bucky mutters, his eyes looking everywhere but at Steve. He puts the pack down, stopping to pull out Steve's towel, and then beats a hasty retreat, ignoring Steve's, "wait, Bucky—"</p><p>Steve bathes hastily, his enjoyment in the hot pool dulled to a much more mechanical satisfaction in getting clean. He'd kind of like to shave, but he didn't pack a razor, so there's nothing to be done about his scruffy jawline. The whole time he gets clean, he dwells on the look on Bucky's face, and what it might mean. Did the sight of Steve like this disturbed him? Was Steve's larger body somehow grotesque to him? Steve looks down and takes in his broad chest and flat stomach. He doesn't think it's anything out of the ordinary, but maybe to Bucky, it looks like a gross distortion of his childhood friend. The thought makes Steve feel slightly ill, and he jumps out of the water and scrubs himself dry, getting dressed while his skin is still damp, as though putting on clothes and hiding all the skin on display will change the fact of it.</p><p>By the time his shirt is clinging a little unpleasantly to his torso and he's shimmied his pants up over his hips, he's worked himself into a state. Who's Bucky to be disgusted by him, just because he's different? Why is Bucky being so weird about all of this? He'd rather be mad than hurt, or spirits forbid letting himself think for even one second about the possibility of Bucky not wanting to be friends with him anymore, so that's what he leads with when he barges back into the room.</p><p>"Bucky, what the fuck?"</p><p>Bucky looks up from where he's lost in contemplation of the wall, apparently. "What do you mean?" he asks, but he sounds more resigned than questioning.</p><p>"You're acting...different. Is it me? Is it this?" Steve waves at his body, trying to encompass the change, trying to keep the hurt out of his voice.</p><p>"No," Bucky says, leaning forward, his gaze snapping to Steve's face for the first time since he walked in. "No, Steve. That's not it at all." Frustration bleeds into his voice. "You can't think of any reason, any reason at all, why I might not want to pretend to be married to you? Why I might not want to hop into a bathtub with you?"</p><p>"No," Steve says. "We used to—"</p><p>"Yeah, we used to," Bucky snaps. "When we were kids. We're not kids anymore, and I can't—" He lets out a short, explosive breath and looks away.</p><p>Steve moves in front of him, heart aching, an inexplicable lump caught in his throat. Steve kneels down when Bucky refuses to look up at him so he can catch his eye. "Tell me what I did, Buck. Whatever it is, I want to make it right."</p><p>Bucky makes a strangled noise. "It's not anything you did."</p><p>"Then what is it?" Steve reaches out and takes Bucky's hands. Bucky turns them over to him reluctantly. "We've always been able to tell each other everything. If that's changed, then I guess I'll get used to it, but if there's something I can do about it—you're my best friend. I don't want to lose you."</p><p>Bucky takes a deep breath and squeezes Steve's hand. He's gone pale, and his eyes are huge, but his gaze doesn't move off Steve's face. "Here's the thing," he says slowly. "I haven't told you everything, not for years now."</p><p>Steve takes in a breath. He feels like he's taken a deep cut somewhere in his chest and can feel the shock. It doesn’t hurt yet, but he knows that the pain is coming. If his friendship with Bucky isn't what he thought, if they aren't as solid as he's always believed them to be, then his world is much further upside down than finding out his father was a deer person could ever turn him. "What do you mean?"</p><p>"I don't want to get in the bath with you, and I don't want to pretend to be married to you, because those are things I've wanted for years, for real." Bucky's lips press together and he scans Steve's face. Steve can't imagine what he's seeing there; Steve has no idea what his face is doing. He can't process this information. It's too big, too strange. Whatever Bucky sees, he starts to pull away, but Steve just grips his hands harder.</p><p>"You want to get married," Steve says. "To me."</p><p>"I'm in love with you," Bucky says simply. "I want to be with you. It's not so much that I want to be married right away, but I'd be lying if I said it's not something I've thought about."</p><p>"You never said," Steve replies, still trying to make the picture fit. The two of them, not best friends, but together as a couple. It's like everything he knows slightly distorted, seen through water.</p><p>Bucky frees one hand to run it through his hair, looking away from Steve. "Well. You're not exactly overjoyed at the news, are you? So maybe I was right not to."</p><p>"Shut up." Steve tugs at his hand, and Bucky turns back toward him, every line of his face indignant; but then he ducks his head and lets his hair fall forward like a curtain. "Give me a minute, okay? I'm surprised, but I'm not—"</p><p>"You've never even thought about it," Bucky says. Steve can't read his voice, not exactly, but he can tell that he's hurting.</p><p>"Bucky," Steve says, his mind racing. He can feel little moments recontextualizing themselves—that heated anticipation curling in his gut when he asked Bucky to get in the pool with him, but earlier, too, the flutter in his chest when he saw Bucky shirtless in front of the Barnes house, water dripping down his chest. A thousand ways he had come to count on Bucky above everyone, but had refused to let himself see in that light. "It's not that I've never thought about it."</p><p>Bucky snorts, an ugly sound, and Steve catches his other hand again, lets himself feel the warm skin, the calluses striping his palms.</p><p>"I wouldn't lie to you," Steve says, and he means it, feels it in his chest like a vow. "I never let myself think about it, because I was sure there wasn't a chance, but—"</p><p>"You thought there wasn't a chance?" Bucky looks at him now, hope and incredulity at war in the line of this mouth, the tilt of his eyebrows. "Steve—"</p><p>"I mean it." Steve tugs at his hands, slides a little closer. Bucky doesn't exactly shy away, but he looks wary. "You saying that, just now. I—you know I love you more than anyone else, right?"</p><p>"We're best friends," Bucky says, and Steve is thankful that he says it like it's obvious, like it's a fundamental truth for him too, with no bitterness or sadness that they aren't anything else. But the longer Steve thinks about it, the more he's on board for seeing what happens if they try for more.</p><p>"Yeah, but...you I don't know if most people think about their best friends the way I think about you," Steve admits. "You took me by surprise, but Bucky, I've always made myself look away, because I was looking in the first place."</p><p>Bucky looks at him intently. "Please, Steve, don't say it if you don't mean it."</p><p>"I mean it," Steve says. He leans forward, invading Bucky's space, but slowly, so if Bucky doesn't want him to, he can evade him. Bucky doesn't move. "If you want to try, I want that too. And I'll always love you best. Whether or not we do this won't change that."</p><p>"You can't say that," Bucky murmurs, his eyes not leaving Steve's face. "What if you meet someone else? Someone you like better?"</p><p>The idea strikes Steve as ludicrous. There's no one out there like Bucky. Steve's gone his whole life without meeting anyone he likes half as much, and he could travel to the capital or the heart of the woods and he wouldn't. "Not gonna happen. What if you do?"</p><p>Bucky laughs, a jagged little sound that lodges in Steve's chest. He wants, suddenly and fiercely, to kiss the sound away, to let Bucky know that though he's comparatively late to this, he's in all the way. "There's not a chance."</p><p>"I'm sorry I'm slow compared to you," Steve says. "I'm sorry I made you wait. Please, Buck, let me make it up to you."</p><p>Bucky's lower lip quivers, just slightly as he nods, and Steve leans up to still that tremble. His heart is in his throat, his pulse point beating like a hummingbird in flight, and the only reason he doesn't shake out of his skin is that he sets his hand on Bucky's chest and can feel his heartbeat thudding just as hard, just as quickly. Their lips meet and Steve is shocked to feel how soft, how giving Bucky's mouth is against his—but if he thinks about it, it's as unsurprising as the pull of Steve's attraction to him. Bucky looks tough, rugged and muscular and the kind of man who has practice at protecting himself from all the threats of the forest, but he's always been kind to everyone—especially Steve—good with children, the kind of person who cries at the black moments of the romance Becca reads after the restday meal sometimes. So it's no surprise, not really, that Bucky's kisses are as kind as the rest of him.</p><p>And then Bucky's hands fall on Steve's shoulders and his fingers clench convulsively and pull Steve tighter, and suddenly Steve is breathless. He tangles his fingers in Bucky's hair, parting the curtain that Bucky had used to hide from him earlier and letting himself in. Both of their breaths catch, and Steve can hardly tell whose pulse is whose as their breath mingles.</p><p>Steve swears he can feel the tenderness, the care that Bucky is pressing into him with each kiss, and he hurts somewhere deep in his soul, he aches with the knowledge that Bucky has been carrying this by himself. Every other burden, every other hurt, they've shared between them; Steve hates to think of the careless wounds he must have made, offhand comments with no intent to harm that must have hurt anyway.</p><p>But he can't let himself dwell on what he did when he didn't know, only promise, to himself and to Bucky, now that he does, he will take such care with this gift that he's been given. And he tries to kiss that back into Bucky, tries to let his hands stroke promises into Bucky's shoulders, the strong line of his spine, the delicate curve of his hip bone. He tries to fill each kiss with the love that he's always felt, a little different now, bright and shining when seen from this new angle, but always, always deep and true. It's not hard to feel the embers of desire fanning into flames; the only question he really has is how he managed to hide this from himself for so long.</p><p>They both gasp, and Bucky pulls back, breathing hard, eyes filled with wonder, pupils wide with desire.</p><p>"I should get cleaned up. I'm filthy," he says softly.</p><p>Steve strokes his thumb over Bucky's jaw line. "Do you think I care about that?"</p><p>Bucky snorts. "Maybe not. But it's not exactly how I pictured this."</p><p>"So you pictured this, huh?" Steve puts his whole hand flat against Bucky's cheek, and Bucky leans into the touch. "Tell me what you pictured."</p><p>"Don't laugh at me," Bucky says without opening his eyes.</p><p>"I'm not laughing, I promise." Steve leans up, kisses him again, quick. "I have a lot to catch up on, but I want to. I want to get where you are."</p><p>Bucky opens his eyes, meets Steve's gaze. "I pictured a lot of different ways over the years. Remember Gil Hodges?"</p><p>Steve nods. He does indeed remember Gil. In their schoolboy years, Steve had been bullied mercilessly for a number of years, and Gil had been one of his worst tormentors before he moved to another town. He had mocked his height, his ill-health, his lack of a father...anything he could think of to rile Steve up. Younger Steve had gotten into dozens of fights with the bigger boy, and come home with black eyes and bloodied lips more times than he cared to count. Whenever Bucky had been there, he'd intervened—not that Steve appreciated it at the time.</p><p>"Well," Bucky says, a faint blush staining his cheeks, "in my daydreams, I'd stop Gil from hitting you, and instead of getting pissed off, you'd kiss me."</p><p>The ache in Steve's chest blossoms a few more bruises, and the lump in his throat gets sharper. "Even then? Buck, we were, what, twelve?"</p><p>"What can I say?" Bucky looks down, and his dark lashes flutter against his cheek. "I've been gone on you a long time. And since then—I don't know. A sudden declaration of love after restday dinner? You looking up from the manuscript you were working on and seeing me like that for the first time? Every dumb thing you can possibly imagine, I thought about it."</p><p>"It's not dumb," Steve says. "Not any of it." He cups Bucky's face in both his hands, wanting to memorize every line of him that he's known by sight for years with his hands, with his mouth. He kisses him like he has something to prove, because the way he sees it, he does. When they break apart, he rests his thumb for a long second on Bucky's lower lip. "You want to take a bath? I can wait, or I can come with you. It's definitely big enough for both of us."</p><p>"You could come with me," Bucky says, almost shyly. "Even though you're already clean."</p><p>They've seen each other in various states of undress all their lives, but this time, as they strip, it's very different. Steve's never felt this visceral awareness of Bucky's body before, even all the times he had looked without admitting that was what he was doing. The two of them get into the bathroom before they start taking their clothes off, Steve neatly folding his up to put back on once they're finished, and Bucky just dropping his on top of Steve's dirty clothes.</p><p>There's not a chance that Steve is anything but hopelessly subjective when it comes to Bucky, but he thinks, objectively, that anyone would find Bucky beautiful. His face and his forearms are tanned, but his chest and belly and shoulders are paler, tenderer skin that has not seen so much of the sun. The ring of charms that Becca made him nestles against his sternum, against the sparse hair there, until he takes it off and sets it on the shelf with the towels. There's a familiar scar by his collarbone, where a ten year old Bucky had been showing off for Steve, chopping wood with an axe that was far too big for him, and the ace had rebounded off the wood and nicked him. Steve remembers being terrified, frozen still by the knowledge of how much worse it could've been while Bucky laughed and blotted ineffectually at the trickle of blood running down his chest. There are other scars, now, mostly on his hands and forearms, but across his chest, too, artifacts of an active life in the woods. Bucky’s said that he thinks they’re ugly, but Steve just thinks that they’re signs of the times he lived.</p><p>Bucky hesitates with his fingers on the waistband of his pants, and Steve realizes he's been doing nothing but staring since he got his own shirt off.</p><p>He meets Bucky's eyes, and undoes the first button of his fly, then the rest, one by one. Bucky swallows hard and mimics him. There's a tension between them, stretched tight as a violin string, so taut that Steve can practically feel the vibration. He eases his pants over his hips, going slow more because of nerves than out of the intention to tease, although the effect is that Bucky's eyes darken as he watches, so maybe it's the same.</p><p>Steve's half hard already, alight with wanting him, but he tries not to be obvious about it. This isn't about sex, or at least not only about sex. He watches just as eagerly as Bucky takes in a deep breath and pushes out of his own pants. Steve is desperately relieved to see that Bucky's cock is also filling as they stand there, watching each other.</p><p>"Go ahead," Steve says softly. "Get in."</p><p>Bucky does, and the expression on his face changes from desire to pleased surprise as he feels the water's temperature. He takes in the seats around the edge of the pool, and Steve watches as he finds one that's comfortable for him, and then Steve follows him back into the water.</p><p>It's just as hot and feels just as good on his skin as it did the first time, and the expression on Bucky's face as he sinks back into the heat is indescribably pleased. Bucky leans back and submerges his face, resurfacing with his hair slicked back and dark with water, beads of it dripping down his neck and chest.</p><p>"Can I wash you?" Steve blurts out. The thought of taking care of Bucky appeals to him so deeply—and this is as good an excuse as any to get his hands all over him.</p><p>Bucky ducks his head, a smile that's a little too shy to be a smirk curling up one corner of his lips. Steve's close enough to see tiny droplets of water beading on his eyelashes, close enough to drop a kiss on his damp lips, so he does.</p><p>Bucky kisses him back for a long moment, long enough for both of them to be breathless with it before he pulls away and says, "I thought you were gonna wash me."</p><p>Steve laughs and goes to get the soap. Bucky situates himself in a seat, and Steve slides in behind him. Bucky is bracketed by Steve's long legs, and Steve feels every place his calves touch Bucky's side and thighs as though all the nerves in his body are focused there.</p><p>He starts with Bucky's hair, wishing that he had better than their camp soap to do it with, even if it smells pleasantly enough of rosemary. He lathers his hands and slides them into Bucky's hair. He knows he's touched Bucky's hair before; he must have. But he's never paid attention to the fine, silky texture of it, the way it slides through his fingers. He works the lather gently through the soft strands, trying to focus only on the way he wants to take care of Bucky, not the way his body is reacting to their closeness.</p><p>Bucky rinses his hair and resurfaces, and Steve lathers up his hands again and slides them over Bucky's shoulders. Bucky gasps a little at the touch and then laughs at himself.</p><p>"God, Steve, it's just my shoulders but it feels..." He shrugs.</p><p>"I feel the same way, Buck." Steve runs his slippery hands over Bucky's biceps.</p><p>The muscles are so strong, but his skin is so soft, and he jumps a little under Steve's touch, and Steve finds he wants to find every kind of twitch and shiver he can coax out of him.</p><p>"I don't want to rush into anything you don't want to," Steve says. "It's not—I want you so much, but it's not just about that."</p><p>Unexpectedly, Bucky laughs again. He reaches out and frames Steve's face with both hands, exerting just enough slight pressure that Steve leans forward into his kiss. His hands slip a little further down Bucky's arms.</p><p>"I know you," Bucky says. "I know you're not just trying to get me into bed—or bath. Whatever. I know you're not thinking of me casually."</p><p>"I wouldn't," Steve says. "Not with you."</p><p>"I know." Bucky smiles at him, and though the situation they're in is confusing and complicated, Bucky's smile is not. It is simply and purely and unreservedly happy, and Steve's chest tightens at the thought that he is the cause of it. "I'm not looking to rush into anything," Bucky says. "I don't mind waiting."</p><p>Steve slides his hands through Bucky's arms to his sides, rubs soap and his skin with his thumbs. "I know," he says fondly.</p><p>"But, you know, I also don't mind not waiting." Bucky's smile goes from sweet to wicked in a second flat.</p><p>Steve makes himself take a breath and actually wash Bucky. Bucky's face is amused, watching him, but his eyes are dark and by the time he is sufficiently clean to Steve's specifications, his breath is coming in short, harsh pants. Steve can hardly pretend to be unaffected himself, not when Bucky is so responsive to his touch, and he is hard and aching in the water. He makes himself stop, though, and sits on the tiled seat next to Bucky, wrapping an arm around him, and kissing a line along his shoulder, clean and smelling of rosemary.</p><p>"Steve," Bucky gasps, and his eyes are big and pleading. Steve slides a hand over his chest, rests it in the hollow notch of his collarbone.</p><p>"Do you want me to touch you?" Steve asks. "Because, spirits, Bucky… I want to touch you."</p><p>"You just touched me, like, all over," Bucky said breathlessly Steve lets his hand slide back down, over the broad, muscular swell of Bucky's chest, stopping before he gets to his nipple.</p><p>"Yeah, but that was with the goal of getting you clean, and this would be with the goal of getting you off."</p><p>Bucky snorts a laugh. "Yeah, all right. I see the difference. But… This is so new, Steve. What if you look back and decide you're not sure? I don't want you to do anything in the heat of the moment that you might regret later."</p><p>Steve's first, indignant impulse is to tell Bucky that that's not going to happen and to have more faith in him. But, he makes himself admit, grudgingly, Bucky has a point. This <em>is</em> new, and Steve did just have this realization.</p><p>"If that's what you think is best," Steve says. "I don't want to pressure you, Buck. I don't want to—I'm not going to regret this. I could never regret you."</p><p>Bucky closes his eyes like the words hit him hard. Steve can feel his heartbeat beneath his hand, fast, but steady. Steve's own heart is racing, and he wants—he wants to make Bucky happy, whatever that ends up looking like. So he takes his hand off his chest, and presses a kiss to the square corner of Bucky's jaw, is gentle and as tender as he can make it.</p><p>Bucky's eyes fly open, and his hand catches at Steve's face, turns it to him so he can kiss him, not gentle—tender yes, but fierce. "Fuck it," Bucky says. "I don't want to wait. I trust you, and I want you to."</p><p>In one fluid motion, he gets his hands on Steve's shoulders and swings his leg over to straddle him. Steve's brain fizzles out like an old, used-up charm. Never in a million years could Steve have envisioned this, or envision how hot it would be to have Bucky leaning over him, his hair falling down around his face, drying in tangled curls. He puts his hands on Bucky's hips, fits his thumb over the notches of his hipbones. He slides his hands up Bucky's torso, mapping out the dips and swells of his muscles, soft skin over so much strength. He lets his thumbs rest on Bucky’s nipples for a moment, then presses in just a little. It's absolutely worth it for the noise that Bucky makes, a sharp inhalation, a barely-voiced sound of need. Steve dips his head and takes Bucky's nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking, gently grazing him with his teeth. Bucky's skin tastes good, warm, and clean, and the noises he makes are enough to drive Steve out of his mind.</p><p>Then Bucky gets his hands on Steve, and oh, God, that's incredible. Steve nipples have always been sensitive, but he's never had another person touch them like this, and the person touching him is Bucky, and every touch feels like he's gulped a sip of brandy—all of it goes straight to his head. It goes straight to his dick, too; he's hard and aching in the water, and it comes almost as a shock when Bucky reaches down and strokes him. Steve makes a sound that would be embarrassing if he were capable of embarrassment right now, but he's not. He's too present in his body, his awareness limited to himself and Bucky, and the touch of skin upon skin.</p><p>"This'll probably feel better if we dry off and get to the bed," Bucky says. He sounds gratifyingly breathless, and Steve tries not to feel too smug about it. They dry each other off, which takes longer than it should, because they're constantly stopping to tease each other, to kiss each other, to stroke the sensitive skin of a belly, a chest, a cock. Bucky takes Steve's wrist and pulls him towards the bed, and Steve would complain out of habit except that he's really very happy to be going in this direction, so he wraps his own fingers around Bucky's hand in return. But he can't let Bucky have the upper hand so instead, when they're close to the bed he spins around, still holding onto Bucky's hand, and flops back on the bed, pulling Bucky down on top of him.</p><p>Bucky stumbles a little, but reaches out with his hands to brace himself around Steve's shoulders. Steve finds that he likes the heavy weight of Bucky's body on top of his, likes the way Bucky's cock is digging into his thigh, and his slides along Bucky's belly.</p><p>"Was the point of that just to be a little shit?" Bucky says, but he sounds amused.</p><p>"Yeah, pretty much," Steve admits. "Have to be sure that you know it's still me even though I look a little different."</p><p>"I was never really confused," Bucky says softly. Then he slides his way up Steve's body, both of them gasping at the friction of the movement, so that he can kiss Steve again. And it's so good like this, Bucky pressed into Steve, chest to chest, belly to belly, hips to hips. Steve's desire is tugging at him, hooks in his gut, but right now like this he's content to let it simmer, to just enjoy the feel of the two of them the closest they've ever been. It's good—it's so good. He wishes they could stay forever like this.</p><p>And they do, for a while. They kiss and touch each other, an unexpected gift that the two of them have been granted. But sometime later, how much, Steve will never know, the hooks in his gut sharpen, and suddenly he is nothing but nerve endings and longing and hunger. He reaches down and cups his fingers around Bucky's cock. He's never done this with another person before, and it's different from doing it to himself, and yet still so similar. The angle is different, and it's so much more exciting: soft and hard at the same time, blood-warm in his hand, wet at the tip. But the best part about it is how Bucky reacts, gasping and arching up against him, the muscles in his abdomen flexing, his hips rocking forward into Steve's waiting grasp.</p><p>"Is this okay?" Steve breathes.</p><p>"Fuck, yes, please keep touching me," Bucky says and his face is a little wild with pleasure, and Steve loves to see it, a new expression written across those familiar features.</p><p>Bucky tangles his legs with Steve's, pulling him closer until he can get a hand on Steve's cock also. They're twined around each other, hands moving almost in tandem, hips bucking up toward each other. Steve can't stop looking at Bucky's face, the shifts of his expressions, visible in the crinkles of his eye, the tilt of his eyebrows. Steve has to find out what his mouth is doing by touch, because they can't stop kissing each other, even when it's less actual kissing and more gasping into each other's mouths, their lips parting for breath only to come back together again immediately after.</p><p>Steve had of course gotten himself off before, and had a few teenage fumblings with girls and boys from town, but he's never felt anything like this. His entire body is alight with it, and while his cock is the most insistent, he feels the pulse of desire in his fingers, and the tense muscles of his thighs, in every eyelash.</p><p>Without quite meaning to, his grip tightens and moves faster, slippery with Bucky's precome. Bucky throws his head back and groans, and it's such a good sound, it makes his blood fizz even more, sparkling like the cider the barkeep brings into the pub and the autumn. Bucky's hand is moving faster too, and their forearms bump against each other, and it should be clumsy, but instead, it's even more tantalizing, the muscles in Bucky's forearm, the muscles in his own, both set to their parallel goals, crossing their bodies, bringing them together.</p><p>Steve twists his wrist, and his fingers slide over the head of Bucky's cock, and Bucky lets out a strangled sound and then both of them are moving tighter, faster, and Steve feels Bucky's entire body tense next to him, and then Bucky is coming, spilling over his hand, Steve's name a broken whisper on his lips, and Steve follows after him.</p><p>They lie there together, breathing slowly settling down, bodies still pressed together, and Steve doesn't want to make a move to untangle them anytime soon.</p><p>"Bucky," he says, and his voice is breathier than it has any right to be. "That was amazing. You're amazing."</p><p>Bucky stretches languidly, the feel of his skin still so good against Steve's even though the sharp claws of lust have turned to something softer, more comfortable now.</p><p>"Yeah," Bucky says, voice rough. He turns his head and opens his eyes, and for one second, Steve cherishes the soft look of wonder in his eyes, before they widen into something much more startled.</p><p>"Steve," Bucky says. "You're glowing again."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. six</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Steve meets his father and the plot continues to thicken.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HELLO! We're past the halfway mark! *\o/*</p><p>There's more explicit content in this chapter and if that's not your thing, skip from "They're hardly in the door..." to "they hold each other..." :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky wakes with his arm wrapped around Steve's bare chest, his head pillowed a little awkwardly on his arm. There's sunlight coming in through one of the windows and it limns Steve in gold. It's later than Bucky usually wakes up, he can tell by the angle of the light, but after the last few days, and in an actual bed, he can understand why they slept late. Besides... they hadn't spent all of the night sleeping.</p><p>His face heats up, even though it's just the two of them and Steve is asleep. He hadn't expected any of that—to go from hurting to happiness in so short a time. He's wanted Steve for so long that it almost doesn't feel real that he has him. But they're both naked in the bed, and there's a faint bruise he sucked into the juncture of Steve's neck to remind him that it truly happened.</p><p>He reaches out and gently touches the bruise, a feather-light stroke, and then immediately wishes he hadn't when Steve's lashes flutter and open. He turns his head as his eyes open, finding Bucky as he focuses. He smiles and reaches over to stroke light fingers over Bucky's stubbled cheek.</p><p>"Sorry," Bucky murmurs, heart pounding. He's long since loved Steve's smile, but it turns out it's even better sleepy and less than arm's length away. "I didn't mean to wake you."</p><p>"It's okay." Steve yawns. "I'd've woken up soon anyway. Have you been up long?"</p><p>"Just a few minutes. Long enough to think how nice it was to wake up next to you, not long enough for watching you sleep to get creepy." Steve chuckles, and Bucky reaches out and lets his hand crook over the curve of Steve's ribcage. Bucky gets his courage up and asks, "Are we still...are you still okay with this?"</p><p>Steve pulls him closer and presses a kiss to his temple. "Have I done anything in the last five minutes to make you think that I regret anything about yesterday?"</p><p>"No," Bucky says.</p><p>"I promise you, if I have second thoughts, I'll tell you about them, but Bucky...I'm as happy as I've ever been, and it's because of you." Steve presses a kiss to Bucky's neck, and Bucky's heart thumps a little faster. "In fact, I—"</p><p>There's a soft knock at the door that sends them springing apart, although the door doesn't open.</p><p>"There's tea and breakfast, if you like," comes an unfamiliar male voice.</p><p>"Thank you, we'll be there in just a moment," Steve calls. He sprawls back on the bed dramatically, taking Bucky's hand. "I guess I needed to brush my teeth anyway."</p><p>"I didn't mind," Bucky assures him.</p><p>It doesn't take them too long to get dressed, and when they leave the guesthouse, a man stands up from the tree he'd been leaning against and saunters over to them. He's tall, and despite the shock of white hair, Bucky thinks that he's young, perhaps a few years younger than he and Steve—assuming the people here age the same way that he and Steve do, anyway.</p><p>"Are you hungry?" he asks. "There's breakfast waiting."</p><p>"We'd appreciate that," Steve says. He glances at Bucky. "We do have our own provisions, though, if we're going to be putting you out."</p><p>The man smiles. “Two more won't upset us," he says easily. "My name's Pietro."</p><p>"I'm Steve, and this is Bucky," Steve says.</p><p>"Ah, yes, your husband." Bucky has to shake off a shiver that runs down his spine at the words, and he sincerely hopes he's not blushing. Last night, after the amazing revelation of each other, and before the next round, this morning, while he and Steve had pulled on clothes and congratulated each other on their restraint in not falling back into bed, they'd decided that it was safest to stay closest to the truth and say that their marriage was relatively new, after years of friendship and growing up together. That way, they were less likely to accidentally stumble over a lie. So he supposed he can be excused if he is blushing, but really, he just hopes they don't stumble.</p><p>Pietro leaves them to a long, low table set in the middle of a grove full of trees, much smaller than the enormous ones that surround them. It's brighter here; looking up, Bucky sees that much of the canopy has been trimmed back to allow light to filter in. At a closer look, he realizes that they're in an orchard.</p><p>There's no one else there but them and Pietro, but the table is heaped with fruits, bread, a few soft, crumbling cheeses, and a jar of honey. Pietro encourages them to sit where they like, and joins them, slicing a piece of cheese with a knife with a beautifully decorated handle, and breaking off a chunk of bread with his hands. He pours them water from a pitcher, and for a few moments, there's no conversation as everyone eats.</p><p>The food is good, the bread delicious, although a little different in texture then Bucky is used to. There are small pink apples, again a little different from those outside the forest, but when he takes a bite, there are a delicious combination of sweet and tart, and he ends up snagging another as soon as he finishes the first.</p><p>"Where do you hail from?" Pietro asks when they've all slowed down a little.</p><p>"Trowburne," Bucky says, since Steve's mouth is full. "Do you know where that is?"</p><p>Pietro gives him a small smile. "Outside the forest, of that I'm certain."</p><p>Bucky snorts a laugh. "It's south of here, not too far from the edge of the woods." He fishes and his shirts, and pulls the ring of charms out to show Pietro. He sorts through the charms and finds the one he's looking for, a little metal disk with an enamel line painted on it. He strokes his finger along the side three times, and the arrow comes to life, spinning around on the disk until it points toward home. Pietro's eyes widened and he looks in the direction as though he could see the space between where they sit and where the arrow would lead them.</p><p>"Is this your magic?" he asks.</p><p>"Only in that it was given to me," Bucky says. "My sister made it for me so I can always find my way home."</p><p>"A useful gift indeed."</p><p>Bucky taps the back of the disk again to tell the magic it's no longer needed, and tucks the ring of charms back into his shirt.</p><p>"I wonder," Pietro says hesitantly, and then stops.</p><p>Of course, Bucky doesn't know him, but the hesitance seems unlike anything they've seen of him so far.</p><p>"What?" Steve asks gently.</p><p>"Is it a large community? Would you know if a stranger came to visit?"</p><p>"It's not small enough that we know everyone," Steve says. "A stranger might come to town and we would never know of it." Pietro's shoulders slump, just a little.</p><p>"Why do you ask?" Bucky says. "Is there someone you're looking for?"</p><p>Pietro sighs. "My sister," he says. "Our people—we don't always stay here. We wander, sometimes for months at a time, but we always come back here. She's been gone, though, nearly three years now, and I'm afraid something terrible must've happened to her."</p><p>"I'm sorry," Bucky says. He can't help but think of his sisters, and how he would feel after three years of not knowing what had become of them. "I wish we had some news for you."</p><p>"I didn't really expect you to." Pietro straightens and flashes them a smile that's only a little them. "I ask everyone, wherever they're from. Maybe someday…"</p><p>"I hope you find her," Steve says sincerely. "You say the people wander…"</p><p>Pietro lifts an eyebrow. His smile settles into something more genuine. "Who is it that you seek?"</p><p>"My mother never told me very much about my father," Steve says. "But obviously, he was one of the people."</p><p>Pietro looks at him, his eyes going slightly unfocused. "Yes, and you'll need to lock that down a little. You're pouring magic like a beacon."</p><p>Steve's eyes widened. "Is that—how do I even do that?"</p><p>"You'll get to see the council of starets today," Pietro says. "They can address the question of your father and your magic, both."</p><p>“Starets?” Steve asks, and Bucky’s glad that he said it.</p><p>“Hmm...people who have enough experience to be worth consulting? A lot of them are elders of the people, though not all of them are old.” Pietro reaches out and touches Steve’s arm reassuringly. “They'll be able to help you control your magic.”</p><p>Bucky looks from one to the other of them, feeling suddenly very human and very ordinary. Pietro catches his eye and must misinterpret his expression, because he adds, "Don't worry, you're safe here. We have barriers up so that no one can perceive untamed energy."</p><p>"Perceive it?" Steve murmurs, and he's gone a bit wide-eyed as well.</p><p>"Don't worry, there's plenty of time to talk about that later," Pietro says. "Would you like me to show you around?"</p><p>They dispose of apple cores and other scraps and a compost pile some distance away from the orchard, and then he sure takes them on a tour of the community. In addition to the orchard, there are a few other gardens, but Pietro explains that they also forage in the woods. There's a meadow where several people in deer shape are grazing, and some of them lift their heads to watch them walk by, but none of them transform to talk.</p><p>There are other buildings like the one they stayed in last night on the ground, but there are also buildings built around and into the trunks of some of the enormous trees. Ramps and walkways connect them, circling tree trunks and bridging over the distance between them. There are some of the shelf funguses, like the ones they spent the night on as some of the foundations of homes, but some of them are supported with nothing more than beams and branches. They see people in both deer and human forms as they walk, and some of them take in Steve and greet him, but no one besides Pietro speaks to Bucky. After a while, it starts to grate.</p><p>But what Pietro shows them next makes Bucky completely forget about that irritation. He takes them up along, winding walkway, higher than most of the other buildings on the trees that they have seen. It's beautiful, looking down on the people's community; Trowburne is built around an old high street, and a few tangled roads around it, but then expanded into a grid as time went on. The buildings are meant to concentrate people in a small area. This community is different.</p><p>The buildings are spread out, not only in trees and on the ground, but in that there is distance between them, and nothing like a road at all, only little paths through the undergrowth. The buildings are different too, blending in with their surroundings much more than Trowburne ever did or could. All of it speaks to an entirely different mindset, one that Bucky has only glimpsed and not understood, but is deeply curious about, both because it's fascinating, and because, even if unbeknownst to him, this is part of where Steve came from.</p><p>Then they round the final curve of the walkway, and all thoughts and comparisons of this place to Trowburne flee Bucky's mind. There's an enormous building wrapping around the trunk of this enormous tree, much bigger than other buildings they'd walked by on the way here. Part of it is covered, but part of it is just a flat platform, open to the canopy above it.</p><p>A thick rope dangles down in a loop, resting on the platform. There's something like a large wicker basket attached to it. The rope goes up, vanishing into the branches and leaves above them.</p><p>"Does that go to the canopy?" Bucky asks, breathless with a very focused and immediate wanderlust.</p><p>"Yes," Pietro says. "We trade with the people who live there, and sometimes some of them will come to live with us, or we will visit with them."</p><p>"Could I see it?" Bucky asks, and Steve muffles a laugh next to him.</p><p>"Not without an invitation," Pietro says, not unkindly, and Bucky deflates a little. But he shows them inside the building, where some trade goods are stacked. There are a lot of carvings, like the handle on the knife Pietro had used at breakfast, pale brown and ivory, almost like bone or—</p><p>Bucky looks at Steve, who's studying the carvings with a furrowed brow.</p><p>"Are those made from antlers?" Bucky asks, trying not to sound too invested in the answer.</p><p>"Yes," Pietro says casually. "We drop them every year, just like ordinary deer, and not everyone carves them, but a lot of people do, and many of the canopy folks enjoy them."</p><p>Bucky exchanges a quick look with Steve, but he isn't going to bring it up if Steve isn't.</p><p>Bucky looks up again, at the rope vanishing in the distance above him, and wonders what it's like up there.</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Pietro has kept them busy all morning, touring the town, showing them the best way to the river, the meadows and buildings and all the pieces in between that make up this community. Steve appreciates all of it, curious about the kind of place his father came from, itching under his skin to meet the starets and trying not to show it. Pietro takes them back to the orchard for a midday meal, and when he announces that they're going to meet the starets, Steve barely keeps himself from heaving a gusty sigh of relief.</p><p>Pietro leaves them back to one of the meadows they walked through earlier, and this time, it's full of people in both deer and human form. A hint of nervousness rolls Steve's stomach over, and he finds himself stepping a little closer to Bucky. Bucky reaches out and puts a hand on the small of his back, and Steve shoots him a quick smile. He thinks he can feel the heat of Bucky's hand even through his shirt, and that gets him thinking about the feel of Bucky's hand against his skin, and he has to stop thinking about that, because now is not the time. It's just all so new.</p><p>Some of the people here, he met earlier today, and he finds he can recognize them even in their deer shapes, which is unexpected. But their color is not uniform white, after all, and some of them have scars, and he can tell the shapes of their faces apart. Most of the ones he met greet him. He doesn't fail to notice that none of them speak to Bucky, which is strange and seems rude. It doesn't seem to faze Bucky, though.</p><p>They walked through the loose gathering of people to where the six starets are arrayed in a semicircle in human form. It's easy to see who they are, because each is wearing a large necklace, almost a chest plate, made of many short links of carved antler links together. As the name suggests, they're all older, and they watch seemingly impassively as Steve approaches.</p><p>A dark-skinned man with an eye patch turns to Pietro and in a low voice, thanks him for bringing them there. Then he turns to Steve and, louder, says, "Welcome. We're glad that you found your way to the people."</p><p>"Thank you," Steve says. "I'm glad, too. My name is Steve Rogers."</p><p>The man nods. "You can call me Fury." He turns and takes a quick look at Bucky. "Maria tells me you are wed to this man."</p><p>"James Barnes," Bucky says. He reaches out, and Steve instinctively takes his hand, lacing their fingers together.</p><p>"You are welcome also," Fury says. "How did you come to find this?"</p><p>"Really, Maria found us," Steve says, looking around to see if he can spot her. She's not one of the starets, but she's not far, and she nods to Fury.</p><p>"I could feel his presence," she says. "His magic awoke in the forest, and it shines. He will need to learn how to control it."</p><p>Pietro had said something about Steve's magic being like a beacon, as well. "What do you mean, it shines?"</p><p>Fury turns a heavy gaze on Steve. "You should learn to control your glow. You can use it to do useful things, but uncontrolled, there are many creatures in the woods who would want to feast on it and on you."</p><p>Steve thinks of how Bucky said that he never sees as many hellpigs as he did on this trip, and shivers. If Maria hadn't found them, would he have inadvertently led predators to them, and condemned them both to a terrible death? "If someone would teach me, I would love to learn."</p><p>"I will arrange it," Fury says. "Have you never been in the forest before, to have your powers awaken only now?"</p><p>Steve takes a deep breath. "I was sent here, by one of the nobles who lives near our town. He sent me to fetch an antler, claiming that it would cure someone who has been poisoned. Before that, I'd never been past the edges of the forest, and I had no idea I was anything other than human."</p><p>"Either he misled you or he was himself misled," Fury says. "Our antlers will do nothing more for poison than those of an ordinary deer."</p><p>"Pierce lied to you," Bucky says, and there's something in his voice that's dark and deep and furious. Steve hasn't even had time to process it himself, not yet, and he can't be sure that Pierce lied, but Bucky's gone right for the heart of it if he did.</p><p>"Who is this man?" Furey asks.</p><p>"Lord Alexander Pierce," Steve says. "I don't know why he wanted me to do this, or what he hopes to gain from it, but he said he knew who my father was." Steve glances to the side, and Bucky squeezes his hand in reassurance. "He said he'd tell me."</p><p>"I find that unlikely," Fury says. "Joseph, do you know of this Pierce?"</p><p>"No," someone says from some distance away in the meadow. Steve finds that his eyes are being dragged like magnets to the speaker. A tall man stands on the edge of the clearing, watching the proceedings with a dispassionate expression. "I never met anyone of that name on my travels."</p><p>The man that steps forward is no one that Steve has seen in his life, he knows that. And yet, the crook in his nose and the square line of his jaw are deeply, intimately familiar; Steve has seen them in the mirror his whole life. His hair is a few shades darker than either Steve's or Sarah's paler blonde, and his eyes are brown, not blue, but Steve doesn't need to hear whatever his story is to know that this is the man who left his mother so many years ago.</p><p>"What of this man's mother?" Fury asks</p><p>"Sarah," the man says confidently, and Steve is relieved, and then angry with himself for being relieved, that at least this man—Joseph—remembers her name. Bucky's fingers squeeze around his, tight to the point of almost painful, and a deep comfort to him.</p><p>"There is no disputing your claim to us," Fury says. "Well, there was no disputing it, anyway, but now we know how you came to be."</p><p>Steve wants to speak. A thousand questions are clogging his throat, first and foremost among them <em>where have you been?</em> But he can't he finds he can't say anything, and the moment tips from awkward into uncomfortable, and then Fury turns back to Joseph. "He needs instruction in magic."</p><p>Joseph bows his head. "I will provide it."</p><p>Steve almost wants to speak up, to say he doesn't want it, not from him, but Bucky squeezes his hand again and he reminds himself that these people are helping him out of the goodness of their hearts, and if he doesn't get a handle on how he magics, apparently, it could be bad for him, and bad for Bucky. "Thank you," he manages to get out.</p><p>Fury nods at him. The starets all start to move, and Steve figures his moment in the spotlight is just about over.</p><p>"Wait," Bucky says. "Steve, the note."</p><p>It's been such a hectic few days that for a moment, Steve's brain can't pull up what Bucky can possibly mean. But then it comes back to him, the note tucked into his new gear.</p><p>"Oh," Steve says. "Yes, we found a letter tucked into the gear that Pierce provided me." He glances at Bucky.</p><p>Fury's face has been turned down into what seems to be a habitual frown the entire time they've been speaking, but at this his eyebrows plunge even deeper. "Could I see it?"</p><p>Steve shrugs. "It's in my pack," he says.</p><p>"I'll get it," Bucky says. He gives Steve's hand one more squeeze, and then sets off back towards the guest quarters. Steve tries not to feel abandoned or alone or anything like that as he watches him walk away. It's more difficult than he expected. It's not that he thinks that these people bear him any ill will or are going to hurt him, it's just that he feels better with Bucky around. In the few minutes it takes for Bucky to get the notes and come back, Steve scrutinizes his father. Joseph catches him looking and meets his eye, but Steve can't read his expression. Is he happy to meet his son? Resentful of the obligation that Steve puts on him? Steve has no way of knowing. He supposes he'll get the chance to know him better if they're going to be learning magic, but right now, he finds himself wondering what his warm, cheerful mother saw and such an aloof man.</p><p>Bucky returns with the note in his hand. His cheeks are little red, and Steve wonders if he ran to get back. The thought warms him. He keeps thinking of how different things are now between them, and yet how much the same. He'll never understand how it took him so long to even consider the possibility of having this with Bucky, how he didn't let himself even think about it.</p><p>Bucky hands the note over to Fury, and Fury scans it. His expression doesn't change, but he looks up. "Pietro," he says, and Pietro steps forward, eyebrows lifting. Fury passes him the note and the blood drains from his face.</p><p>"Wanda," he whispers.</p><p>"Your sister?" Steve asks, and Pietro nods.</p><p>"It's her writing," he says simply.</p><p>Steve doesn't ask if he's sure; he'd know his mother's flowing script anywhere, no matter how long it'd been since he saw it.</p><p>"Pierce said he needed the antler to cure his daughter," Steve says. "I've never seen her. She stays on his estate and never comes into town."</p><p>"Or, she's kept there," Bucky says. Pietro bites his lip and frowns.</p><p>"Are you going back to this man? This Pierce?" Fury asks. His hand is on Pietro's shoulder, almost restraining him, as though he expects the young man to jump up and start running off toward Trowburne. But then again, maybe he is; after three years, even this small a scrap of news must be welcome.</p><p>Steve glances at Bucky who looks back at him, expression blank. Truthfully, Steve hadn't thought of doing anything else. He still has his mastery to work toward, and Bucky would never leave his family, and Steve—Steve would never leave Bucky.</p><p>"Yes," Steve says. "We had thought we would go back." Bucky's shoulders relax a fraction, and Steve wonders if it was something he was worried about.</p><p>"When you return," Pietro says urgently, "let me come with you."</p><p>"Of course," Steve says.</p><p>"There can be no question of leaving until you have some measure of control over your magic," Fury says sternly.</p><p>"Sure," Steve says, although he's not really certain what danger there is, besides the one he'd already noted, that of drawing predators to them—although, he thinks, that's certainly bad enough.</p><p>"I don't know if it's important," Bucky adds, and more than one head turns toward him, as though startled he spoke. "But this feather was wrapped up in the note." He holds the feather up, and it's just as dull a gray as Steve remembers. But Pietro gasps when he sees it. He plucks it out of Bucky's hand and holds it up. A murmur runs through the gathered people, and when he leans down and breathes on it, a wash of color runs through it, rippling shades of purple. Steve can feel his eyes go wide, and he and Bucky exchange a glance.</p><p>"You were curious about the canopy," Pietro says to Bucky. "It looks like you're going to get to find out more."</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Bucky leaves the meeting of the starets with more questions than he had when it began. The people are splitting them up, which makes Bucky feel a little anxious, but he supposes he's not a barnacle to be stuck to Steve's side at all times, no matter how much he wants to be. Steve is going with the man who claims to be his father to learn magic, or at least to learn how to regulate his glow, and Pietro asked Bucky if he wanted to come with him to see whatever it is that they're doing with the father.</p><p>Bucky watches over his shoulder as Steve leaves, next to the man who, Bucky grudgingly admits, strongly resembles him, but an older, colder copy.</p><p>"He'll be fine," Pietro says reassuringly. "Every child among us learns how to control their energy. It might be more difficult since he came to it late, but he'll be fine."</p><p>Bucky sighs, but falls into step besides Pietro. "Thanks. Am I that obvious?"</p><p>Pietro laughs, a quiet little half chuckle. "Anyone would be nervous in your situation,".</p><p>"So what is that feather?" Bucky asks. "It didn’t light up like that when we found it."</p><p>“It belongs to a friend of mine," Pietro says. "A friend who is also missing someone he cares for."</p><p>Bucky digests that, thinks about two missing people with a connection to Lord Alexander Pierce, and what Pierce might want with Steve. He can't draw any conclusions, but he doesn't like any of it. But instead of bringing up those thoughts, none of which are very good, and none of which he wants to voice to a man with a missing sister, who has doubtless had all of these same thoughts himself, he asks, "Is it my imagination, or does no one really want to talk to me?"</p><p>Pietro ducks his chin. "It's not your imagination. We are an insular people in some ways, and we can come to trust outsiders, but it usually takes a while. People will be easier with Steve, because he's one of us, but it will take them longer with you. I'm sorry—it must seem terribly unwelcoming."</p><p>"It's fine," Bucky says, although it’s already pretty irritating. "You've been nothing but helpful. I was just concerned that, I don't know, people might feel strongly about the people marrying outsiders or something."</p><p>"Oh," Pietro says. "No, that's fine. I don't think anyone would have a problem with that. As I said, most of us wander, and many of us find companionship or even love. It's just that not many of those people come back here."</p><p>"Oh," Bucky says thoughtfully. The way Steve had looked at him when Fury had asked if they were going back to Trowburne. Would Steve want to stay? Would he want Bucky to? Maybe if they were really married, Bucky wouldn't doubt. But as it is, this feels so young and so fragile. Bucky had what feels like a lifetime of thinking that he and Steve would be perfect together, wishing for Steve to see him that way but now that he has it, he doesn't know. His daydream of love between them was always solid, strong and unshakable as their friendship, but how does he really know, when they've only just begun this thing between them?</p><p>"Don't worry, Pietro says. "They'll come to accept you."</p><p>"We'll see," Bucky says, and then tells himself to shelve all of that for later. "I hope we can help find your sister. I expected the starets to, I don't know… Send an expedition or something to try to get her back."</p><p>"You mean, for them to tell someone what to do?"</p><p>Bucky shrugs. "I guess it's what would happen if something like this happened at home. The town council would send guards to go bring her back. He chews the inside of his lip, thinking. "Or I guess if it was someone like Lord Pierce who had her, they'd send someone to open negotiations."</p><p>"I've been places like that, I suppose," Pietro says doubtfully. "It doesn't work like that here. The starets aren't leaders or the city council like you're speaking of. We don't have guards, or soldiers, or anything like that. The starets don't command us. If people want to come with us to help find her, they'll let us know."</p><p>Bucky has a thousand questions—how do they settle interpersonal conflict? What if the community is attacked by some outside force? But as they talked, they've been walking, and now they're at the building they'd visited before, the one with the rope leading up into the canopy. They start walking up the ramp and Bucky asks, "How do you get a message up to the canopy anyway?"</p><p>"You'll see soon enough," Pietro says with a smile. "It's sympathy between objects. We have mirrors that we have spelled to echo to each other, and there are listeners there and listeners here."</p><p>They reach the building, and walk past the carved antlers that Bucky had noted on their first visit. This time, they pass through a door at the end of the room. Pietro knocks on it, but doesn't wait for an answer before walking through.</p><p>Bucky didn't know what he expected, but there's a young girl sitting in a room with tall, wide, glassless windows overlooking some of the meadows. She has some mending on her lap, and a basket next to her, and she applies the needle with the distracted speed of someone who has done this a great many times. She looks up when they come in, her eyes flicking to Bucky and then widening, then darting back to Pietro. "You need the mirror?" She's already reaching for a small hand mirror on the table next to her before Pietro tells her yes.</p><p>The mirror is not big, perhaps the size of Bucky's palm. He doesn't know why, but somehow he thought it would be hanging on the wall in a bejeweled frame or something. Instead, the frame is ivory and brown, more antlers no doubt, carved into a design of overlapping leaves and feathers.</p><p>"I expected it to be bigger," Bucky says.</p><p>Pietro shoots him a grin. "But then whoever's turn it was to listen would be stuck here. This way the listener can leave, and take the mirror with them."</p><p>The girl snorts and turns back to her mending as Pietro takes the mirror. Pietro breathes on the glass. It swirls to life, faintly glowing in shades of blue and silver.</p><p>"Clint, it's Pietro," Pietro says. "I think I have news about Natasha. Come see me." He strokes a finger around the mirror's frame, and the glow brightens, then slowly fades away.</p><p>"What now?" Bucky asks.</p><p>"We wait," Peter says. "It's unlikely that he's right there by the other mirror, so it might take a bit for whoever is there to find him. But he'll send a message back." He glances at the girl. "If it takes too long, we can go, and she'll come find us, or whoever's turn it is to listen."</p><p>"It seems like a good system," Bucky says, already wondering if this is something that Becca might be capable of making, or something else like it.</p><p>"If Clint's not there, and they have to send someone to find him, they’ll let us know that, too," Peter says.</p><p>They settle in to wait, going back to the room with the antlers, leaving the girl to her mending. Pietro asks Bucky what Trowburne is like, and Bucky finds himself telling Pietro a little about how he and Steve grew up together, how few of the other children were kind to him, how he and Bucky ended up best friends because of it. In turn, Pietro tells Bucky about his life in the forest, the sister he misses terribly. "We're twins," Pietro says. "There's nobody else I've been closer to." He sounds wistful, and sad, and Bucky doesn't know what to say to that—doesn't know what he possibly can't say—but he opens his mouth anyway. However, before he can get anything out, a flurry of leaves drops down from the canopy above onto the platform.</p><p>"Guess he decided not to wait to get in touch," Pietro mutters, and then the two of them rush out and look up. Bucky cups a hand over his eyes to shield them from any falling debris, and then a moment later, he sees large shapes flitting in between the branches. They're indistinct with the light behind them, and he can't get much in the way of details or color, but he doesn't have long to wait.</p><p>The first bird that lands does so like a stooping hawk, and there is much of the raptor in him, except that he's enormous, and instead of brown or gold or white, his feathers are shades of purple. He's only on the ground for a moment before his shape ripples, light coalescing as he dissolves and then reforms into a light-skinned man, dressed in purple. He's a little banged up and has dirty blonde hair, and blue eyes that are sharply focused on Pietro. A second shape lands a moment later, a red bird, smaller than the first, though not by much. This bird doesn't transform: a second later, Bucky realizes this bird has a rider instead, as he slings one foot over the bird's back and slides off, reaching out to ruffle her feathers, uncaring about the enormous, wickedly hooked beak. This man is dark-skinned, with dark hair and a neat goatee. When he smiles at Pietro, Bucky notes a charming gap in his teeth.</p><p>"You have news?" the man in purple asks impatiently.</p><p>Pietro's grin smooths out, turns more serious. "Yes. This man is from Trowburne, one of the communities outside of the forest. He and his husband were sent here on a mission to find an antler to cure a sickness in a rich man's foster child." The first man, Clint, doesn't take his eyes off Pietro.</p><p>The other man, however, snorts when Pietro describes Steve's mission. "As if that would do a damn thing," he mutters.</p><p>"Our first night in the forest," Bucky says, "we found a note in the gear that had been provided for Steve. My husband,” he adds, and is proud of himself that he doesn't trip over the words at all. "We didn't know what to make of it, but once we found our way here, Pietro recognized the writing of the note as Wanda's, and the feather tucked into the notes as yours, I'm guessing."<br/>
Pietro hands over the feather. Clint looks at it, face impassive. "Yes. This is one of mine. The one I gave her."</p><p>"This man, Pierce," Pietro says. "He has them, or knows where they are. Steve and Bucky here are going back outside the forest to their town, to find out what they can from this Pierce. I am going with them."</p><p>"Did you even have to ask," Clint says, finally looking up at the rest of them.</p><p>"I'll come too," the other man says. "I'm not leaving the spider there if I can help get her out. I'm Sam, by the way," he adds, holding out a hand for Bucky to clasp. "And this is Clint."</p><p>The other man ducks his head but does not look terribly abashed, and Bucky doesn't blame him. He doesn't know what the spider is to him, but he can see on his face that whoever she is, she's important.</p><p>"Bucky," Clint says. "Thank you for telling us all of this. Please, can you tell me everything you know about Lord Pierce?"</p><p> </p>
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  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Steve follows the man—Joseph—from the meadow where the starets met.</p><p>"Thank you for teaching me," Steve says, in lieu of all of the other things he really wants to say. But none of those other things are conducive to starting a teacher-student relationship with someone, no matter how brief it might be destined to be.</p><p>"Steve, isn't it?" He looks over his shoulders, eyebrows raised, waiting for Steve to confirm it.</p><p>Steve gulps down a knot of irrational anger. "Short for Steven," he manages to get out.</p><p>"I'm Joseph," the other man says, and Steve swallows an automatic retort of "I know," because he was listening not half an hour ago in the meadow. Joseph lifts an amused eyebrow, and says no more as he leads Steve back through the community. They walk up one of the ramps up to a building nestled into a curve of the tree trunk, tucked into a shelf fungus. The lines of the building flow so that it almost looks like part of the tree, as if it too had grown naturally out of the woods.</p><p>"Is this your home?" Steve asks as they walk through the door into a comfortable sitting room. There's a small kitchen visible through an archway, and a closed door that possibly leads to another room. All of it looks cozy, homely.</p><p>"One of them," Joseph says. "I travel around the forest, visiting many of the people. Tea?"</p><p>"Thank you," Steve says, although really, this only raises more questions: what kind of a wanderer is Joseph?</p><p>Joseph bustles around the kitchen, and Steve follows him, watching. There's a fat, potbellied stove, made of some kind of ceramic, the handle made of more carved antler. Joseph pulls a long narrow stick from a slender vase on a shelf next to the stove, and taps it against the ceramic. A tiny flame pops into existence, and he uses it to light the coals within. He sets the kettle on the stove, and tips a delicate spoonful of dried leaves into a round, flat teapot. Steve watches what is obviously a familiar ritual with interest.</p><p>"Why do you travel so much?" Steve asks him once the kettle is back on the stovetop and working up to a boil.</p><p>Joseph favors him with a smile that doesn't do much to soften his expression. "I'm a healer. Something I have in common with your mother."</p><p>"Is that how you met?" Steve asks.</p><p>"In a way," Joseph says. "I travel to visit the people, and heal where I'm needed, but I have often left the forest in search of other healing techniques. It was on one of those trips that I met Sarah." He pauses, and his eyes flicked up to catch Steve's. "Is she well?"</p><p>"She died four years ago," Steve says baldly. He doesn't mention how hard it had been for him. He doesn't mention how he had had almost no one; that but for the Barneses, he would've had no one at all. He doesn't say how since his mother died, that had been the story of his life.</p><p>Joseph straightens, just a little, his eyes momentarily shadowed. "I am sorry to hear it," he says. "She was a remarkable woman."</p><p>"She was," Steve agrees, and then, unable to resist, he adds, "She raised me all alone, on top of everything else that she did."</p><p>"You are angry," Joseph says in tones of mild surprise.</p><p>"You don't seem very broken up about it," Steve says, with what he feels is epic restraint.</p><p>"I only knew her well for a short time, and it was a very long time ago," Joseph says. “When I saw her since, it was only briefly. I’m sorry she’s gone, of course I am—”</p><p>And that must do it, must break some dam inside Steve, someplace where every insult that anyone ever flung at him for has been festering for years. "Every time we struggled, every time she was mocked for not naming the father of her child—where were you?"</p><p>Joseph is quiet for a long moment, and the kettle whistles. He pulls it from the hob, extinguishes the fire with another tap of the long stick, and pours water into the teapot.</p><p>"At first," he says, "I did not know there was a child." He lets out a long, gusty sigh. "We enjoyed our time together, and we exchanged knowledge about healing, but I don't think either one of us ever foresaw there being a permanent connection between us. She had her life, you see, and I had mine. She was very attached to your town, and I, of course, could not leave the forest, not permanently."</p><p>"Did she know where you came from? What you are?"</p><p>"Yes, more or less. She knew I was from the forest and she knew that I was not like her, not entirely." Joseph takes the teapot and pours, a measure of his brew for both of them. "I came to see her a few years later, and there you were."</p><p>"I don't remember," Steve says, a little shaken that they had met and he had no memory of it.</p><p>"I'm not surprised," Joseph says, and pushes the cup toward Steve. Steve takes it almost automatically, barely registering the warmth of the ceramic against his skin. "You were a slight little thing, hardly up to her knee, playing with another child as the two of us talked. She said you were mine, and I believed her, but there was not a drop of magic in you, not even a hint of the glow of our people. I told her, of course."</p><p>"What did she say?" Steve takes a sip of the tea. It tastes like mint, and something else, something floral, he registers absently. Why had she never told him?</p><p>"I told her I could not stay with her, but she could come with me to the forest, if she liked, and raise you there among my people." He takes a sip of his own tea, his eyes fixed somewhere in the distant past. "She said, would I have her raise a child with no magic and who could not transform with a village full of children with whom he would never fit in? I didn't have an answer for her. She told me I could keep coming to see her every once in a while, if I liked, and she'd do well enough on her own."</p><p>Steve's tongue feels thick in his mouth. It hadn't exactly worked, had it? He'd grown up not really fitting in at home, either. But then again, he had Bucky; and if she had moved to the community to be with these people, whether or not that would've activated Steve's magic as a child the way it had as an adult, he would never have known Bucky. "Did you?" he asks. "See her again, I mean."</p><p>"A few times," Joseph says. "Over the years."</p><p>Steve wraps his hands around the small cup, trying to formulate what he wants to say. <em>Why did I never meet you? Didn't you want to know me at all?</em> But what comes out is, "I don't remember meeting you."</p><p>"You wouldn't," Joseph says, with something approaching gentleness. "I never stated long, and we never told you who I was. Sarah thought—we <em>both</em> thought that it would be too hard while you were young, too confusing to explain why I couldn't stay and why you couldn't go."</p><p>"I've been old enough to understand for a while now," Steve says. He can't begin to explain the ache behind his breastbone, a tangle of pain and anger that he doesn't know how to unthread. Sarah had always made certain he'd known he was loved, whatever other difficulties they'd had to navigate. Joseph hadn't even bothered to make himself known. There's a thread that's even worse: hurt directed at his mother, for keeping all of this from him his whole life.</p><p>"You're here now," Joseph says. "There's nothing either of us can do about the past, but I can help you in the present."</p><p>Steve takes a deep breath. There's still a lot he wants to say, a lot he wants to let out, but—Joseph's right. They're here, he needs to learn, and, he realizes, he can talk to Bucky about all of this later on. The Barneses are a large family, spread out over many towns and with cousins in the capital. He might have some insight on how to handle something like this—more than Steve has on his own, certainly. Steve had been entertained on more than one night by tales of and letters from the Barneses that lived in the capital, or even further villages, and the sprawling family tree.</p><p>"Yes," he says aloud. "Thank you. How do we start?"</p><p>"Before you learn how to direct your energy, you have to learn how to control it. It's already wrought a change on you, yes?"</p><p>"The first night I was in the forest," Steve tells him. He runs a hand over the opposite arm self-consciously. "I've been small my whole life—maybe you know." He glances at Joseph, but he only makes a noncommittal sound. "I went to sleep as I've been my entire adult life, and I woke up—like this."</p><p>"A surprise for both you and your husband, I imagine," Joseph says. "That was your magic expressing itself in a burst, I would think, like water overflowing a dam. There are parts of us that are fueled by magic below a conscious level—like you breathe without thinking about it, but need intent to speak."</p><p>"So why am I glowing?" Steve glances down at his arms, but it's day out, and of course he doesn't see anything besides the hem of his shirt and his skin.</p><p>"Right now, the magic is leaking out of you all the time, lighting a fire for anything that consumes magic to draw close to you."</p><p>"How do I keep that from happening?" Steve asks.</p><p>"That's what I'm here to show you," Joseph says simply. He takes a sip of tea and sets it aside. "First, visualize a wall..."</p><p>Steve isn't sure how long he and Joseph run through what Joseph assures him are very basic magical drills. He visualizes a wall, he unfocuses his eyes to try to see the magic Joseph is pressing on him, and every time he thinks he sees a glimmer, it slips away. It's frustrating to feel so clumsy at everything about this, and he's not sure he understands what Joseph wants him to do or how he is to see the magic around him. But he can visualize a wall, and when he finally manages to pull up a wall that will keep his magic close in to his body, it feels like a joint snapping into place.</p><p>"Oh," he says, at the same time Joseph says, "There it is, you've got it."</p><p>For a moment they just smile at each other, and Steve feels no acrimony toward the older man.</p><p>"Keep practicing that," Joseph says. "It'll become second nature to you—you'll keep it up in your sleep without thinking."</p><p>"How will I know if I slip up while I'm asleep?" Steve asks.</p><p>"If your husband wakes up and you're glowing, ask him to wake you up so you can reset it." Joseph lifts an eyebrow. "We can work on the rest of it while you're here. But this, the shield that keeps your magic from running free, and keeps things that want magic away from you—that's the most important thing for a beginner. You work on that, most of all."</p><p>Steve thinks about it, tries to throw the thread of thought that Joseph says is the flow of his magic into the wall he's visualized. Somehow it comes to him even easier when he pictures it like Joseph just said, like a shield.</p><p>"Yes, there. Exactly like that. That's what you must practice most. The rest will come with time." Joseph smiles at him, and if it is the small pleased smile of a teacher whose pupil has made progress, not that of a father to a son...well. It isn't as though that's what they are to each other, is it?</p><p> </p>
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  <p>*</p>
</div><p>Steve hardly remembers a thing about dinner. He knows he ate, and he knows it's at the communal table in the orchard, with a lot of the people he's met in attendance, and many he hasn't met yet. He knows he says the right things, greets the people he was introduced to, speaks to the starets of what he and Joseph had done that day.</p><p>But the whole evening the thing he's most aware of is Bucky's eyes on him, an almost tangible presence against his skin, like a caress. It doesn't make any sense; he's had Bucky watching him his whole life, and how could one night, no matter how delightfully spent, make him this aware of Bucky looking at him? He's not leering, there's no suggestion of what might happen when the two of them are back alone together at the guesthouse. And yet, Steve's brain is muddled with thoughts of him, with the memory of skin touching skin, lips pressed against lips.</p><p>Steve finds himself stumbling over his words as he tries to explain what he learned to Fury, even though he's grateful for Fury's brusque nod of approval when he manages to raise his shields to his satisfaction. He hopes he doesn't look like too much of an idiot; Bucky doesn't—his face is composed, but to Steve, his eyes are hot on him.</p><p>Finally the meal is over, and Steve hardly registers Fury's comment that the starets will convene in the meadow in the morning, and that anyone who wishes to help may say so then. It's not late—or it wouldn't be late if they were at home—but Steve feels zero shame at pleading fatigue and retreating to the guesthouse with Bucky. And if there are smiles or laughter about their eagerness, well. They're newlyweds, after all, aren't they?</p><p>They're hardly in the door before Bucky is plastered to him, hands sliding over Steve's shoulders, pulling him close. Earlier in the day, Steve had worried that they might be awkward or strange around each other because of this new dimension in their relationship but there's no time for that.</p><p>Bucky's lips are hot against his, his hands roaming, stoking the fire between them with every stroke, every time his fingertips dig into Steve's hips, not quite hard enough to bruise.</p><p>It's not awkward the way Steve had thought, but both of them are clumsy with desire, hands fumbling, getting in their own way. It makes Steve laugh a little, and then Bucky's laughing too against his mouth, and Steve doesn't know that he's ever felt anything quite as wonderful as that. Steve claws Bucky's shirt up over his shoulders, yanks his trousers down, and Bucky pulls Steve's clothes off him like they personally offended him. Bucky drops to his knees, and Steve's mind goes as white and blank as the midsummer sun in the sky. Bucky's mouth is hot and wet around him, moving faster and slicker than Steve thinks is possible, and it's not long before his hands are tightening on Bucky's shoulders, one of them moving to tangle in his hair, and Steve tosses his head back, seeing stars, seeing galaxies as he comes, only realizing it would have been gentlemanly to warm Bucky first.</p><p>Steve pulls Bucky to his feet, Bucky grinning like he's pleased with himself. Steve leans forward to kiss him and can taste himself on Bucky's lips, and the thought of it makes him feel wild. He keeps kissing him as he walks him backward to the bed, intent on Bucky's lips, intent on their movements together. Even though Steve has just come, he still feels wild with desire, with the need to make Bucky feel like he does. He muscles Bucky backwards until his knees hit the bed and he collapses backward, and then Steve still pushes against him, putting his body on top of Bucky's, pinning him down with his new weight. Bucky arches up beneath him, the lines of his body graceless with longing, exquisite with want.</p><p>His cock is flushed and hard, because of <em>Steve,</em> because he wants him. Steve's never done this before, but all he wants is to make Bucky feel like he did, so he trails down his body and licks his cock from balls to tip. Bucky's hands scrabble in the bedclothes helplessly, and Steve wraps his hand around him and fits what he can of him into his mouth. Bucky's big, and it feels awkward at first, but he's hot and hard and salty and bitter, and Steve finds himself falling into a rhythm, getting in his hands and mouth to move up and down, licking, sucking, careful of his teeth but wild and messy with everything else.</p><p>He'd never thought about how it would feel to be the one doing this, and he's surprised to find how good it feels to be the one making Bucky fall apart like this. He feels powerful with it, sacred, forging a bond between their bodies like the one he already feels between their souls.<br/>
Then Bucky's hands are on his shoulders, squeezing, his mouth forming a garbled warning, which Steve ignores in favor of letting Bucky come down his throat. And this is good too, the hot salt of it, the taste not totally pleasant, but not unpleasant either. He makes himself look up the line of Bucky's body, sees his abdomen flex with his gasping breaths, sees the dimpled point of his chin thrown back, the arches of his hipbones. Steve hadn't known that anything could be this beautiful, this perfect.</p><p>He swallows, and pulls himself back up Bucky's body to curl his own around him, the two of them beautifully spent. He kisses Bucky's chest, kisses his collarbone, until Bucky rolls his head around and pulls him up to kiss his lips.</p><p>They hold each other, bodies cooling, but not yet cool, Bucky's heart slowing beneath the hand Steve has so carelessly sprawled across his chest. They're both slick with sweat, and Steve can still taste Bucky on his lips. He feels enormously pleased with himself, smug with it.</p><p>Bucky presses lips to his temple almost absently, and that careless gesture nearly undoes Steve, even more than what preceded it. They lie in silence for a little bit longer, Steve's head, at least, completely empty of any thoughts besides the pleasure of touching the man next to him.<br/>
But Bucky, it seems, still has at least one thought in his head, because he strokes a hand down Steve's side and asks, "What Joseph said at dinner—you're really learning magic?"</p><p>"Well, just one magic so far." Steve turns his head and rubs his jaw over Bucky's shoulder. "The most important one, Joseph says. Anything else will take more time, but we have that."</p><p>Bucky makes a humming sound in his throat, a questioning sort of sound. "Maybe in general, but not before we go back to Trowburne."</p><p>"What do you mean?" Steve asks.</p><p>Bucky laughs, a rumbling sound that Steve feels through his entire body, pressed up to Bucky as it is. "Weren't you listening at all at dinner?"</p><p>"Not really," Steve admits. "You kept looking at me, and that was all I could think about, pretty much."</p><p>Bucky makes another sound deep in his throat, but this one is awfully, terribly self-satisfied. "Is that so?"</p><p>"You know it is, don't act like you don't." Steve turns his head and bites him, not hard, on his shoulder. "But what do you mean, we don't have time?"</p><p>"I told Clint and Pietro and Sam everything we know about Pierce and him sending you here. They think any time we spend waiting is more time that Wanda and Natasha might be hurting." Bucky bites his lip, and Steve can't help but follow the movement. He thinks it's not going to take him long before he could go again. "They're not wrong. We don't know what Pierce is doing, but we know that neither one of them are his foster daughters."</p><p>Steve drags his attention back to the matter at hand, which he supposes is a more pressing matter than his dick. "They're right. I won't delay them. I can always come back later and learn more from Joseph, I suppose."</p><p>Bucky rolls over, turns his head to take Steve in. His expression has gone more serious. "Is that something you want? To come back here?</p><p>"Sure," he says. "Don't you?"</p><p>"Oh," Bucky says, and Steve can tell that there's something that he's missing, something that isn't right.</p><p>"Hey," he says. "What's bothering you?"</p><p>"If you come back here…" Bucky swallows hard. Steve can see the movement of his throat, and for a moment he doesn't get it, but then, all of a sudden, he does.</p><p>"Oh. Oh. I would never—" He tightens his hands on Bucky's body, pulls himself closer, as if he could press the truth of it into Bucky's skin. "Not forever," he says. "To visit, sure. To learn. But not forever. I know you won't leave your family, and I won't leave you." Bucky shuts his eyes, the relief on his face so strong that it makes Steve almost ashamed to have put the need for it there. "Besides," Steve adds, "it's my home too. I don't want to just leave it."</p><p>Bucky opens his eyes. "I know it's, but—they've never treated you like you deserve to be treated."</p><p>"I don't know about deserve," Steve says, feeling uncomfortable. It's true that he'd never had an easy time of it, but it's not true either to say that no one had been kind. There was always Bucky, of course, and Bucky's family, and there were a few people, fellow journeyman scribes, or the librarians that he knew who were kind to him. The town hadn't been an entirely unwelcoming place. Steve presses a kiss to Bucky's temple. "Don't worry, I'll come back to learn what I need to, but I'm not going anywhere without you. Besides, now we know where it is, it's not even that long of a trip."</p><p>“Good," Bucky says, and then his serious expression turns a little wider. "But as short of a trip as it was, I've been promised the return trip will be even faster."</p><p>Steve wraps an arm around Bucky and pulls him closer. “I’ll tell Joseph about it tomorrow.”</p><p> </p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div><p>"Absolutely not," Joseph says.</p><p>Steve stares at him. "I'll come back to learn more, but right now, this can't wait."</p><p>"You barely know how to shield as it is," Joseph says. "At least gets some offensive spells in your repertoire before you do this."</p><p>"Wanda and Natasha can't wait," Pietro says.</p><p>They're in the meadow again, the starets in their court, listening to the plans that Pietro, Clint, and Sam have put together in conjunction with Maria. Bucky had given Steve the bare bones of it last night, but he hadn't been as thorough as he could have been, and Steve had perhaps not been listening with his whole attention while he did.</p><p>"They've waited this long," Joseph says. "What's a few weeks more?"</p><p>Clint steps forward, fist clenching around the bow he holds at his side. "We don't know what's happening to them. We don't know what they're suffering."</p><p>"I can come back later," Steve says "there'll be time to learn what you have to teach me, isn't that what you said?"</p><p>"He has the potential to be a healer," Joseph appeals to the starets. Fury's face remains impassive, and Maria just raises an eyebrow.</p><p>"It's not our place to tell him what to do, Joseph," she says.</p><p>Steve frowns; in all their time yesterday, this is the first that Joseph has said anything about Steve healing. He wonders, a little bitterly, if Joseph even has any interest in him besides whatever potential he has. It seems like just yet another thing that's been withheld from him.</p><p>"Stay here and learn," Joseph asks, not quite a question, but an appeal. "Let them go without you."</p><p>"I'm the one Pierce sent to do this," Steve says a little stiffly. "He sent me into the forest to find an antler, and he's not going to accept Bucky, or especially people he doesn't know bringing it to him."</p><p>Joseph frowns, and he looks to the starets, but when they offer no other sign, he seems to find grudging acceptance, at least. He reaches into the bag at his side, and brings out a small, forked end of antler. "Here," he says, and holds it out to Steve. "You might as well give him what you came for."</p><p>"Thank you," Steve says.</p><p>"I'll hold you to coming back here," Joseph says. He looks at Bucky, and says, “Hold him to it.”</p><p>“I will,” Steve says. Bucky glances at Steve, but nods to the older man as if to say that he’ll make sure of it.</p><p>"We can start heading back to the edge of the forest today," Pietro says.</p><p>"We're packed and ready," Bucky says. "But it's a three or four day trip back to the edge of the woods. I'm afraid we'll need to ask for some provisions."</p><p>"Ah," Sam says, speaking for the first time this morning. "As it turns out, we can get you there a little faster than that."</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. seven</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which Steve and Bucky confront Pierce.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky has daydreamed about getting to see the canopy from the time he realized that even the enormous trees of the forest had habitats all up and down their trunks, just like the more ordinary trees outside of them. He is well acquainted with what lives on the ground and around the bases of the trees, but the deeper he traveled into the forest, the more he realized that there was a whole world above his head, a world so far out of his reach that he was like a mole or a chipmunk trying to envision a bird's nest in the highest branches of an oak tree. His vision has always been limited, and he knows it. So when Clint and Sam offered to take Steve and him the shortest way from the people's forest community to the edge of the woods—as the crow flies, if the crow were a raptor with a twenty-foot wingspan—of course he'd accepted. Bucky would have leapt on the chance for a much lesser cause than this one.</p><p>"How will Pietro keep up?" he'd asked. All of them had laughed, and Bucky had known he was missing a joke, but Pietro had just told him not to worry about it. They were to meet him outside the Barnes's home, at any rate. Bucky had asked if they'd be taking the basket up into the canopy, and Pietro had told him not this time, not with Sam and Clint with them, and Bucky had privately spun a little fantasy about coming back and riding up, one day. He doesn't know if it's ever going to actually happen but maybe, maybe—if Steve comes back to learn magic, Bucky can come with him, and even if he's never really accepted as Steve's husband, maybe—</p><p>"Come on," Sam says. "You're riding with me."</p><p>Bucky shakes himself out of his daydream. "Both of us on your bird?" he asks skeptically. "Won't we be too heavy?"</p><p>"Not for Redwing," Sam says with a laugh, and strokes a gloved hand through the tiny feathers around her beak.</p><p>Bucky shoots a glance to the side, where Clint has transformed, and a cautious—for once— Steve is going over the gear and adjusting it to Clint's specifications. Sam laughs and tugs at the saddle over Redwing's shoulders, secured in some fashion that Bucky doesn't understand so as not to impede her wings.</p><p>Sam jumps up on Redwing's back with a practiced leap, then holds a hand down for Bucky. Bucky takes it, and scrambles up behind him, much less gracefully. He's very good at climbing trees and cliff faces, but his experience on actual living beings, much less birds taller at the shoulder than horses, is very limited. Once he's up, Sam shows him how to strap himself into the saddle, how to put make sure his goggles fit comfortably, where the padded foot rests for his feet are, and the leather straps to grab onto in case he's not comfortable flinging his arms around Sam's waist, Sam adds with a wink.</p><p>The whole thing has the sound of a practiced spiel, and Bucky asks, "Do you take passengers often?"</p><p>Sam throws his head back and laughs. "Yes, actually. Almost everyone in the canopy can fly, but there are a few who can't, or a few who are too young or too old for long journeys, or sometimes people just want a message delivered as fast as can be, and Redwing and I take care of all of that."</p><p>"You must've been all over the forest," Bucky says, a little wistfully. He's sure his eyes have gone wide and longing at the very thought of all the things that Sam must've seen.</p><p>"Yeah," Sam says, "or at least a lot farther then you've been able to get on your own two feet, I bet."</p><p>Bucky can't take offense at it. He knows his little corner of the forest well, but if he's learned anything about the forest on this trip, it's that it's much bigger and much deeper then his little corner of it could possibly encompass. "I can't even say anything to that," Bucky says. "I'm just jealous."</p><p>Sam laughs, and twists around in front of him to check and make sure all his straps and buckles are secure. He jumps down off Redwing's shoulder, and goes to double check Steve's straps as well. Alone on the giant bird, Bucky entertains the wild thought that she might suddenly take off and flee with him, leaving behind everything he's ever known, and he doesn't know if the thought is terrifying or exhilarating.</p><p>But of course, Redwing doesn't leave. Sam comes back and hops back into the saddle in front of him with an ease that Bucky can only envy. He straps himself into place with the ease of someone who's done it a thousand times.</p><p>Then he looks at Clint, and pumps his fist once then raises his hand flat above his head. Bucky feels all the muscles beneath his legs bunch, and then Clint takes off and Redwing follows, and Bucky finds himself white knuckling those straps that Sam showed him, yelling out a wordless whoop as his stomach drops away. Redwing's powerful wings beat like mad, carving up the air and flinging them up into the break in then branches above them. </p><p>Bucky's grateful for the goggles Sam gave him; his eyes are watering a little even behind the thick, smoked glass, and his hair is whipping around his face, the cord he'd tied it back with doing little to contain the loose strands.</p><p>Those are minor annoyances, though, in the face of the fact that he is <i>flying.</i> The birds chase each other around the giant tree trunks, flitting in and out between branches, and the people's community dwindles into child's toys below them before they leave it entirely behind. He sees Pietro in his deer form, a tiny shape below, white against the dark of the forest floor, leaping into a run, and even from this height, it's obvious why they were laughing at him. Pietro is so fast he might as well be flying himself, sliding around the trees as though he's water, darting ahead of them while they are still rising.</p><p>Redwing's wings are a constant steady beat as they rush up through branches and leaves, Bucky instinctlively ducking behind Sam at nearly ever turn because it keeps looking like they're about to hit something large and solid, and then there's a break in the foliage and Redwing's wings stop pumping at all and they glide up, up, up.</p><p>Bucky's got a death grip on the leather straps, but he's laughing at the same time. Sam twists around and yells something Bucky doesn't understand, and only after Sam has turned back to face front does Bucky's brain interpret it as <i>thermal,</i> an explanation for their long drift up. He glances over at Steve, and sees him clinging to Clint's back. From this distance, he can't tell if Steve is enjoying himself or not, but Bucky honestly can't imagine how anyone wouldn't be awash in a sense of wonder at this.</p><p>Clint comes up out of the trees first, but Redwing is only moments behind him. Bucky has an impression of color and shapes, and then they are above the canopy, floating over a vast ocean of leaves. The forest spreads out in every direction, shades of green and brown and gold, bursts of pinks and yellows and reds where flowers dot foliage. It's easy to see which way the forest's edge is from here—the trees dip down toward that edge, while they slowly rise up in the other direction. Bucky knows the forest floor is a gentle slope towards its center, so he can't imagine how tall the distant giants rising up the opposite direction must be.</p><p>"Have you ever been there?" Bucky yells over the wind at Sam, tapping his shoulder and pointing toward the center, and Sam must understand him well enough, because he shakes his head no, and gestures someplace a little closer, though still farther than Bucky's ever been. </p><p>Bucky looks over his shoulder as Redwing banks to the side in a slow, gradual turn, back to the trees toward the center of the forest—if that even is the center, if there aren't bigger and stranger trees even deeper into the woods. There's an ache in his chest he can't explain, because he doesn't want to leave his family, not really, and he wouldn't want to go without Steve, but the unknown calls him. Plants and creatures he's never seen, wonders he can't imagine, maybe somewhere the river joins a lake or inland sea. People, he bets, a whole forest of people like Pietro and Maria and Clint and Sam, people he can't imagine. </p><p>Sam taps his arm and points, and Bucky is abruptly reminded that there are people closer in who he can't imagine either, whole worlds directly below him that he's only glimpsed the very edges of, and just because the faraway is tempting him, doesn't mean that should be all he focuses on, or he'll miss seeing some of the things he's always wanted to see.</p><p>Below them is a village, a series of wicker buildings like birds' nests somehow affixed to the high parts of the branches, lashing in the wind. There are people going from tree to tree, house to house, some on birds, some who are birds, stopping to talk to their neighbors, and some who have wings, feathered and—Bucky squints—some like dragonflies’ or butterflies’. There's a group of people riding what look like some kind of enormous squirrels, fluffy-tailed and bright-eyed, scrambling up and down the bark, herding a group of fat caterpillars. One of the riders takes her hat off and waves at them as they pass, revealing short hair and a snub nose, and Sam waves back genially.</p><p>The birds turn again, and Bucky clutches the straps again as Redwing tips to the side, Bucky's left tilted toward the open sky, and to his right a fall to an earth he can't even see through the enormous trees.</p><p>He catches glimpses of wonders as they fly by, the edges of tree-top villages, butterflies the size of horses lazily waving particolored wings, ragged flags of spider-silk from a dead, craggy tree the size of a noble's estate. All of it goes by quickly—too quickly, almost, leaving him with only the edges of impressions, when he'd love to make a study of all of it, however many weeks or months it might take. </p><p>The distance it took them days to travel through at ground level takes a matter of hours from above, and there are considerably fewer hellpigs on this leg of their journey. When the edge of the forest comes into view, the trees are smaller, and Bucky's face is wind-chapped and aches from grinning, and his legs are stiff and sore from spanning Redwing's back. Clint starts spiralling down toward a clearing some distance from Barnes's home, not too close to the road—not too close to much of anything, which is kind of the point.</p><p>Redwing lands so gracefully that Bucky's hardly jarred. Sam springs down to the ground as though they didn't just spend six hours in the air, and goes to help Steve down from Clint's back. Bucky shoves the goggles up over his forehead, blinking at how much brighter the colors look without the smoked lenses, and wraps his hands in the leather straps one more time before carefully swinging a leg over Redwing's back. She mantles a little, turning her head so one bright orange eye is looking directly at him, and he freezes, aware of how big her hooked beak is, and how close it is to his vulnerable body. But she only watches him, as he slowly moves his leg over and clumsily slides down her side to the ground. He feels the impact of his feet with the ground all through his legs, and for a moment he's afraid his legs will collapse beneath him, but he leans against the big bird until he can stand again. Despite his nebulous fears, Redwing just lets him be, pupil dilating and then contracting as she watches him. </p><p>Steve and Sam stride over, Steve showing no signs of the bodily pain that Bucky is—or at least his legs are—in, and Bucky spends a moment actively resenting both of them. There's a flare of purple light, and then Clint is standing there, rolling his head from side to side, stretching out kinks, the bags that had been strapped to his harness piled next to him. Bucky doesn't try to figure out exactly how that happened, just tries to discreetly get feeling back in his legs.</p><p>Bucky stretches as they wait for Pietro, and Steve comes beside him while Clint and Sam talk in low, easy voices.</p><p>"Maybe I should go ahead," Bucky says in a low voice, glancing over to where the others are chatting next to Redwing. "If we've got to wait on Pietro anyway, I could talk to Becca."</p><p>"Weren't we going to just gather some supplies and hope not to talk to anyone?" Steve murmurs. "I mean, given..." His eyes dart between them, and then in the direction of Sam and Clint.</p><p>"That's why I want to go now," Bucky says, just as quietly. "She can help us—I have a couple of ideas, things like the mirrors between the people and the canopy—and I should tell her—" He realizes how disjointed he sounds and stops talking. He reaches out and takes Steve's hand, wraps it in his own, and pulls it close to his chest. "I should tell her," he repeats.</p><p>"I want to tell everyone," Steve says, his voice still low but ringing with sincerity.</p><p>"Once we have this settled," Bucky says, "we will. Everyone we know and people we don't. But Becca first."</p><p>Steve smiles, familiar even on his changed face, a sweet expression that Bucky has seen a thousand times, directed at him even; but this time is different, because Bucky is holding his hand close to his heart, and it's everything he's wanted most in the world.</p><p>He turns back to Sam and Clint to tell them he'll go ahead and come back to them before Pietro gets here—because Bucky can't imagine he'll be here before midday tomorrow at the earliest if he runs all night—but before he can say anything, Pietro leaps out of the trees, antlers high and white fur gleaming in the afternoon sun. Bucky's mouth drops open, trying to picture how he managed it. Pietro's flanks are heaving, but he's not lathered at all, and he looks pleased with himself, his head swinging back and forth between Steve and Bucky to catalogue their reactions, clearly pleased with their shock.</p><p>"How the fuck?" Bucky asks out loud.</p><p>Light shimmers through Pietro, and then the man they've come to know stands in front of them, his shock of white hair the only thing really similar to his deer shape. "Everyone has a gift of some kind," he says smugly. "Speed just so happens to be mine." </p><p>Bucky thinks about that as the rest of the party follows him through the foot trails back to his family's home. Maybe Pietro means that the deer people are all born with a gift, but it has Bucky looking at what he is and what he does—he doesn't think he's much of anything special—Becca has her magic, Pru, the garden—all he really has going for him is a penchant to wander and the knowledge he's picked up in the forest. He glances to his side at Steve. Steve lifts an eyebrow, and Bucky nudges him with his elbow. He's got his magic locked down behind his shield, no sign of the glow in the lowering light. He hasn’t had much time, but he’s been practicing, and he hasn’t accidentally started glowing since they left the deer people’s village.</p><p>Dusk has truly fallen now. If Bucky hadn't traveled this path a thousand times in all kinds of light, he'd be concerned about getting lost. But it's a boon, too—they can spend the night in the barn, and if the fates smile on him, Becca will still be in her workroom, and he can talk to her in private. He doesn't want to talk to his parents—they'll be worried about Steve, and worried about him, and make too much of their changed relationship. But Becca—she'll be worried about Steve and his sudden increase in size, and of course she'll have questions about him and Steve, especially since she's known that he's nursed tender feelings for Steve for the entire span of his life, but—she won't try to stop them. She won't try to talk them into not helping. And if Bucky pitches the magical artifacts he's seen correctly, she'll be so intrigued by them that the rest of it will fall by the wayside. It's not that she won't care, it's just that her focus will narrow to the practical problem at hand. He's seen it a thousand times.</p><p>They reach the edge of the garden, and Bucky takes in the house, the lights on in the kitchen, where his family is probably eating the evening meal. A pang pierces him, but not for more than an instant. He's where he needs to be, doing what he needs to do.</p><p>Steve's hand slips into his, and Steve tightens his fingers. Bucky has a moment where he feels nothing but gratitude, because Steve knows him better than anyone, and he knows Steve just as well. The light's not on in Becca's workroom, and Bucky lets himself regret it, but maybe it's for the best that they won't see her. There are a few things he can borrow from her workroom, anyway, that will help them if they're to escape whatever trap Bucky is certain Pierce has set for Steve. Bucky doesn't know the shape of it, but he can feel that it's there, and he knows without being certain why that Wanda and Natasha are part of it too. </p><p>"I can at least do a little scouting tonight," Sam says as they settle their belongings into the hay of the loft. Even through bedrolls, it'll be scratchy, but it's hardly the worst place Bucky has slept, and he feels sure it's the same for the rest of them.</p><p>Bucky lifts an eyebrow. "I thought we were going to wait till the morning."</p><p>Sam waves his hand side to side in a <i>sort of</i> gesture. "I'm going to wait till morning, sure. But the birds don't need to wait. I'm sure there are owls near the estate. I'll just consult with them and see if there are any details they can tell me. It won't take but a few minutes, if I go with Redwing."</p><p>"Okay," Steve says, a little dubiously. "Just be careful. I don't know much about Pierce's estate, but I feel certain there are guards."</p><p>"Don't worry about us," Sam says. "They never look up."</p><p>They make a meal of dried meat, flatbread, and fruit, cold lentils that Pietro brought in one of the packs he'd strapped to himself in his deer form. When they're done eating, Sam leaves with Redwing to go interrogate the owls, or whatever it is exactly that he'll be doing, and Bucky prepares to sneak into Becca's workroom.</p><p>She'll understand, he tells himself; most of what she makes is for him anyway, to take into the forest , and he knows she won't begrudge him what he needs for this particular mission, especially once he tells her what's at stake, but—it still makes him feel bad.</p><p>"Do you want me to come with you?" Steve asks quietly.</p><p>Bucky wishes, oh how he wishes, but— "No. If I do run into anyone, it'll be a lot easier to explain me being there, than to explain you, like this."</p><p>"Yeah," Steve says quietly. "I wasn't sure, you know."</p><p>"Sure about what?"</p><p>Steve shifts a little uneasily, and bites his lip. "If all of this would stick—if once we left the forest, I'd stay big like this."</p><p>“Oh," Bucky says. It hadn't occurred to him that it was possible for Steve to revert, but then again it wouldn't have occurred to him that any of it was possible in the first place. But he can't read what Steve's thinking about it from his expression. "Are you glad, or do you regret it?"</p><p>"Maybe some of both," Steve says. "I don't—I don't miss feeling sick, but… I was used to to myself, used to the way my body works and how it moved. And I'm getting used to this one too, but my mental image of myself hasn't caught up yet, and I keep surprising myself."</p><p>Bucky leans up and kisses him, because he can't help it, not when Steve is looking so uncertain. "I love you no matter what you look like, you know that, right? I spent years pining over you one way, and I'm fully prepared to spend years pining over you the other."</p><p>That makes Steve smile, like Bucky hoped it would. "You don't have to do any pining anymore," Steve says.</p><p>"I'll try to get used to that," Bucky says. Then he makes himself get serious, ready to go and steal what sort of is meant for him anyway. "If I do run into anyone and I have to come back here, I'll knock first, okay? Give you guys a chance to, I don't know—hide, or duck down into the hayloft, or something."</p><p>"Okay, Buck." Steve says, and Bucky takes a deep breath.</p><p>He's walked this path a thousand times before, in the dark, even, but it's different doing it now, when he's trying to be sneaky and hide from his own family. Maybe he should tell them what he and Steve are up to—but no, he doesn't think so. He's run through the arguments in his head a dozen times in the day since they've formulated this plan, and he knows that his parents won't want him to help—not because they wouldn't want to help Steve, but because they wouldn't want him to risk himself—but to Bucky, this is the thing most worth it in the world.</p><p>He slides up to the door of Becca's workroom and gently tugs it open. Becca keeps the hinges pretty well oiled, but he's careful nonetheless not to make any sound. He slides in and shuts the door behind him—then hears something fall across the room.</p><p>Heart in his throat, he crosses the room. His mouth is dry, and his pulse rapid, and he tells himself—again—that he belongs here, that he's not a thief in the night.</p><p>"Bucky?"</p><p>He spends around, and sees Becca in the corner, hands cupped around a small glass globe that gives off a faint purple glow. "What are you doing here?" he asks.</p><p>She smiles. "I was about to ask you the same thing." Her tone of voice is teasing, not in the slightest suspicious.</p><p>"I need your help, Becks," he says.</p><p>The smile vanishes from her face. "What's wrong? Are you in trouble? I thought you were on a pretty long expedition—I don't think any of us expected you to be back so soon."</p><p>He takes a deep breath. "I'm not in trouble—at least, not yet. I wasn't quite honest about the expedition. I really did go into the woods, but it was with Steve. <i>For</i> Steve, really."</p><p>Her eyebrows draw together. "What does Steve have to do with anything?"</p><p>He gives her the short version of events as he understands them, beginning with Steve coming to tell him about Pierce approaching him, and ending only with, "I couldn't let them go into the woods by himself, Becca, I just couldn't. So I went with him, to make sure he was okay."</p><p>"And is he okay? Did he find the antler? Where is he, anyway?"</p><p>Bucky glances around her darkened work room, so familiar, and always a source of help for him in the past. He puts his hands on her shoulders.</p><p>"I need you to promise not to tell mom and dad what I'm about to tell you," he says. Her eyes widen, and she lifts one brow in a silent question, but she nods.</p><p>"Okay, if that's what you need. I promise."</p><p>Relief swamps him. She won't go back on her word.</p><p>"We found a lot more than just an antler in the woods," he says. "We found a whole community full of people—" He hesitates, thinking how to describe them; but really, that's not his secret to tell, and it doesn't really matter in terms of what he needs from her. "We found Steve's father, living with the people in the forest."</p><p>Becca lets out a soft gasp, and sets down the little globe she'd been tinkering with when he came in. "His father? Is Steve okay?"</p><p>A wave of affection washes over him; he loves her for thinking about how it would make Steve feel. "Getting there, I think. His father is some kind of magic user, and he was teaching Steve how to use it."</p><p>She frowns. "Steve? Steve no more magical than you are."</p><p>He snorts a laugh. "Well, maybe that used to be true, but it changed once he got into the forest."</p><p>"What do you mean?"</p><p>"The first night we spent in the forest, Steve put on some height," he says. "He's taller than me now. Broader through the shoulders, too."</p><p>"Steve?" She shakes her head. "Bucky Barnes, if you're messing with me—"</p><p>"I'm not," he says. "I wouldn't joke around about something like that. Not about Steve." He takes her hand and squeezes it. "He's in the barn. I can show you if you don't believe me. But there's something I have to ask you."</p><p>"Anything," she says.</p><p>"It's a long story, but look—there are some people who came with us out of the forest. They're looking for some friends of theirs, and they think Pierce has them. I was hoping you would help us come up with a few things that might help us out what we try to get them back."</p><p>"Of course," she says. "That's why you don't want me to tell mom and dad, right? If you're trying to sneak someone out of Pierce's estate… Bucky, is it going to be dangerous?"</p><p>"I don't know," he says honestly. "I hope not. But that's not all I was going to ask you." She pulls her hand free and sets it on her hip, her head tilted at the angle that says she's waiting. "The people that came with us think Steve and I are married," he says in a rush. "Please don't say anything to make them think differently."</p><p>Her eyes narrow and he can almost hear her saying <i>Bucky, you absolute dumbass,</i> but all she says out loud is, "And why would they think that?"</p><p>"Because Steve told them we were," Bucky says. Now both her eyebrows arch up almost to her hairline. "They don't really accept outsiders. They were gonna take Steve in, because he was related to them, but they were gonna leave me out in the forest, so Steve said the first thing he thought of, and that was that we were married."</p><p>"And how did that make you feel?" Becca has been Bucky's confidante and the patient listener to all his many, many soliloquies about the tragedy of Steve not seeing him as boyfriend material, so she's absolutely allowed this question.</p><p>"Not great," he says honestly. "But we talked about it, and I told him how I feel."</p><p>"Unbelievable," Becca says. "As in, I didn’t believe you were ever going to talk to him about it. What happened?"</p><p>Bucky allows himself a smug smile. He thinks he deserves it.</p><p>"Holy shit, really?" Becca pulls him into an impulsive hug. "I'm so happy for you. Are you happy?"</p><p>"Ecstatic," Bucky says, and he means it. "And I think he's happy too."</p><p>"Of course he is," Becca says staunchly. "Why wouldn't he be?"</p><p>"Well," Bucky says, and he can feel the smile turning into a grin, "you should come tell him yourself, and meet our new friends. And then, if you will, we could use your help."</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>It's late, late enough that Bucky's parents and his other sisters will be asleep, late enough that he can sneak into his room and get the formal dress of a forest ranger, much nicer clothes than he usually wears, and leather armor over it. It's a symbol, his parents had told him, of the covenant that will call rangers to defend the town if need be. Bucky is not often called to wear anything besides plain, worn-out clothes that will hold up to all the scrapes and scratches he picks up in the forest and not show stains too badly, but he does have more formal gear for special occasions. He's worn it to two high festivals, and when he was first granted mastery of the forest by his parents, when he turned sixteen. He's filled out some since then, but he takes care of his own gear, and he's adjusted the leather armor as necessary, so it still fits him well. And if he's going up to the estate in any kind of formal role—which he feels he is—then he wants to be armored not only literally, but in a reminder of who he is, and what he does for their town. Sam, Clint, and Pietro are already asleep, or if they're not, someone is faking snoring really well. Becca is in her workshop, left alone as she had asked to be, and Steve, lying close to Bucky, is not yet asleep, Bucky can tell from the way he's breathing. Bucky rolls over, and gently runs his hand down Steve's bicep.<p>"I'm going up to the house to get my armor," he whispers.</p><p>For some reason, that makes Steve tense up beneath Bucky's touch. "I've been thinking," Steve starts. That's never a good start to a conversation, in Bucky's experience.</p><p>"Don't strain yourself," he whispers back.</p><p>Steve laughs, and elbows him in the side. "Shut up. I've been thinking—you don't have to do this."</p><p>"Yes, I do," Bucky says, a little louder than he meant to. They both look over as one of the snorers pauses, then resumes. Bucky jerks his chin toward the ladder down from the loft, and they both slide down it and slip out the door into the open night.</p><p>"We know this is a trap. We know there's going to be trouble," Steve says.</p><p>Bucky glares at him, although he probably can't see it under the slight crescent moon. "So what? You want to go get into trouble without me?"</p><p>"Well…Yeah," Steve says, and Bucky swallows down his immediate impulse to a sharp, hurt retort. "What about Becca? What about your parents? If you get in trouble, they'll get in trouble too."</p><p>"Do you think I haven't thought about that?" Bucky says. "Do you think Becca hasn't? I asked her not to tell our parents, because if they really don't know, then no one can hold them to blame for what their son does without their knowledge."</p><p>"Yeah, you'd think that," Steve says, "but we both know it doesn't always work like that."</p><p>Bucky takes a deep breath. "I understand you're concerned for me, and my family, and I really appreciate that, Steve, but…I'm going with you. If something happened and I wasn't there, I don't know how I'd live with myself."</p><p>"Bucky." Steve looks somehow, at the same time, both impossibly fond, and impossibly frustrated. "I can do this on my own."</p><p>"It's not a question of if your dumb ass can," Bucky says, "it's a question of us doing this together, where I can help you, and it would've been even if we never kissed, so if you were about to argue about that, put it away."</p><p>"I'm just worried," Steve says softly.</p><p>"So am I," Bucky says, "but not as worried as I would be if you did this and I wasn't there."</p><p>"I could do it alone," Steve offers one more time.</p><p>"Not without me," Bucky says. The moon comes out from behind a cloud, and it feels a little like a stage light on Bucky's big, dramatic proclamation, but he'll take it; he means it.</p><p>Steve sighs, but his eyes are soft in the moonlight, and when he comes closer to press a kiss to Bucky's lips, it doesn't feel like they're arguing anymore. "Okay," Steve says. "I wouldn't want you to go without me either. I'm just trying to do right by you."</p><p>"You are," Bucky says. "And letting me do what I need to without trying to stop me is part of that."</p><p>"All right," Steve says against his lips. "Go get your armor."</p><p>"I will," Bucky says, and he does.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>"Here they are," Becca says. She hands over a couple of tiny mirrors, each the size of a locket. She even has cords around them, so they can wear them on their next. Her face is pale and the shadows under her eyes are pronounced, like someone had smudged her with ink. Bucky knows that making things takes it out of her, and new spells are more challenging than familiar one. Spells that she's made up, going off only the vaguest description that he and Pietro had been able to give her?<p>"You're a miracle worker, Becca," Bucky says, and pulls her in to give her a kiss on the cheek.</p><p>"There's only so many I could make," she says, a little fretfully. "Given the materials and the time constraints." She hands a few to Bucky and keeps one for herself. "The team that goes in can have one, and the people waiting outside can have one, and I'm keeping one for myself." She glares from Steve to Bucky and then down at the locket-sized mirror in her hand, then back up again. "I know you don't want me to tell anyone," she says, her eyes resting on Bucky. "But if something goes wrong, I'm going to tell mom and dad, and if you think we're leaving any of you to languish in Lord Pierce's estate, you're very wrong."</p><p>Bucky hugs her. "Thank you," he says. It feels inadequate.</p><p>"You're the actual best," Steve says. "I don't know how to thank you enough."</p><p>"The way you look out for my brother is thanks enough," she says, and flutters her eyelashes atrociously. Steve, hilariously, turns bright red. Bucky can't get enough of his blush, of the fact that he knows exactly how far down Steve's enormous chest it goes. (All the way.)</p><p>Becca had been taken aback, to say the least, when she saw Steve. Bucky's warning might've prepared her for the thoughts of a much larger Steve, but only intellectually. Bucky had knocked on the barn door, as he'd said he would, to let his companions know that he wasn't alone, but he'd also called out, as soon as he come in, "It's all right, it's Becca."</p><p>Steve was the first to come down from the loft, swinging himself over the edge and jumping off the latter instead of descending one step at a time. Becca squealed, then clapped her hands over her mouth, and said "Steve! Is it really you?" When he'd winced and fumbled his way through an explanation, Becca had just run to him and wrapped her arms around him, whispering something in his ear that made him blush. She'd been more reserved with Clint, Sam, and Pietro, examining Pietro closely when Steve introduced him as one of his father's kin. </p><p>They had gone over their plan, and Becca had had commentary, of course; Bucky had never known her not to have commentary. But it was good, useful thoughts one and all, and Bucky was grateful not only for her insight, but for how eagerly she'd left on the chance to make them some charms once they had explained what they'd seen with the mirrors. And now, seeing what else she'd put together overnight, or pulled from her workshop, Bucky is overwhelmed with gratitude all over again, for a sister who is not only clever, but also supportive.</p><p>The rest of them had grabbed sleep as they could overnight, but looking at Becca, it's clear that she herself hasn't slept at all.</p><p>"You gonna be all right today?" Bucky asks her softly.</p><p>"It's not the first time I've pulled an all-nighter in the workshop," she says, which he knows to be true.</p><p>"Try to take a nap after your chores," he suggests.</p><p>She fixes him with a look that says without words that he is a complete dumbass. "Not a chance. I'm going to be listening see if you need my help."</p><p>"Fair enough," Bucky says. "Thank you, Becca. Really. I have the feeling our chances just got a lot better because of you."</p><p>She smiles at him, the expression somewhere between fond and acerbic. "Just don't die or get in trouble. I can't bear the thought of trying to explain it to mom and dad."</p><p>It's perhaps a mile walk from the Barnes house to the town, and then another half an hour on the other side of the town to Lord Pierce's estate, but since they have no desire or need to go through town, they can cut a little time off of their trip. Of course, Clint and Redwing could get them there even faster, but there's no sense in starting rumors of giant birds circling the town, or giving Pierce any warning that anything's any different than usual, just in case he's on the lookout. So instead they have a pleasant ramble through the countryside, and Bucky tries to shake the premonition that this will be the last pleasant thing they experience today.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Steve takes a deep breath and tries to settle himself. Lord Pierce's estate is within their sights, and Bucky is taking a moment to buckle his armor on over his clothes. He'd worn a finely-woven and well-cut tunic and trousers in a deep blue, but had carried his armor in a pack as they walked, claiming that it was too hot to wear while they walked to the estate.  He'd not only nabbed his own clothes from his room the night before, he'd brought some for Steve as well. Steve had tried to protest, but Bucky had pushed them on him, saying that he ought to dress as well as he could—that he'd have dressed in the clothes Pierce had given him if they'd still fit him, but since they didn't, it was as well that he go looking as good as he might, and with nothing of Pierce's on him. The clothes are Bucky's, and they don't quite fit him, being a little loose around the waist and a little tight through the shoulders. Bucky's eyes had lingered on him appreciatively when he put them on, though, and Steve had spared a thought to what they would have looked like on him before his transformation, and how Bucky' gaze would have lingered instead on a looser collar slipping off his narrow shoulders. He's lucky, he thinks, that Bucky is gone enough on him that he doesn't actually care what Steve looks like.<p>Sam and Pietro and Clint are exchanging murmurs about the estate when Bucky finally declares himself ready. Steve looks at him and nearly swallows his tongue.</p><p>His leather armor is dark brown, not as heavy as the town guards' armor; it's meant, Bucky has told him in the past, to be light enough to move through the forest, although in practice, Bucky has told him it's too cumbersome for that, and that he prefers to just be quick or, better still, avoid a situation where he might need armor. There's a long, sweeping cape, too, with chains running from shoulder to shoulder. He’s armed with knives and a short sword he never takes to the forest, as well as a short bow, which sometimes he does. Clint eyes it with interest. Altogether, it's quite a look. Steve doesn't know whether it's more intimidating or just kind of...hot. </p><p>"Your mouth's wide open," Sam murmurs next to him. Hot it is, then.</p><p>Steve doesn't know how he never saw it before. He remembers, one night, a few years back—Bucky had to participate in the harvest festival, for some reason. He'd gotten himself dressed up just like he is right now, in his armor and cape. Steve had been working late, trying to finish a commission, and Bucky had brought him some food from the festival. The street had been quiet, Steve remembers, because everyone had still been celebrating, but Bucky had left early to be with him. He had heard boot heels on the cobblestone, and looked out his window to see Bucky striding up the street, his cape billowing around him, the streetlights softening the hard lines of his face. Steve had looked at him admiringly, he remembers, noting the sway of his sword at his hip, and the swirl of his cape as he walked. He'd been struck with something like envy for the figure that Bucky cut, but he doesn't understand how he didn't see what Bucky could be to him.</p><p>Well, he sees it now.</p><p>"Are you ready?" Bucky says.</p><p>"If Steve can stop ogling you, maybe," Sam says. Steve curses his pale skin, because he can feel the blush sleeping over him, and he knows he looks like an idiot. Bucky seems to like it though; he smiles as he takes whatever Steve's face is doing.</p><p>"The owls weren't able to give me much," Sam says. "Wherever their rooms are, they're not obvious to any of the windows along the outside walls. The great hall's got tall windows, though, and there are some swallows that made a nest in some of the rafters. If that's where you go, I'll be able to keep an eye on you there. If not, well…"</p><p>"That's what the mirrors are for," Bucky says firmly. He hands one to Sam and leaves the other around his neck.</p><p>The plan, such as it is, is that Steve and Bucky will go in and present the antler to Pierce, springing whatever trap it is he has in mind. Sam, Clint, and Pietro will be listening in from the outside, and watching if possible, ready to stage a daring rescue if necessary. Their hope is that Pierce will let something drop about his purpose, but Steve is also ready to ask if he can meet the sick girl whom the antler is supposed to cure. If there's any boon he can be granted for rendering Pierce this service—besides the money for his mastery, which Pierce is theoretically giving him—then that's what he wants to ask for: a chance to meet Pierce's so-called daughter.</p><p>It's not much of a plan, Steve knows. But there are too many variables they can't account for, too much uncertainty. They can only do their best with the information they have, and hope that it will be enough.</p><p>If things go really, terribly wrong, their ace in the hole is Redwing, who can, if necessary, swoop down and bodily lifts them out of harm's way, as long as they're under the open sky. Steve doesn't want to think about what would have to happen to have that be their best shot of making it out of the situation.</p><p>"All right," Steve says, rolling his shoulders back. "I'm ready."</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>The fallen antler of one of the people doesn't look much different than any old deer antler, but this one at least is polished to a shine, courtesy of Joseph, and Bucky had taken one of the dark velvet bags that Becca used present some of her more precious items, and wraps the antler and it. In the sunlight, it seems to glow a little, not quite the shine that Maria or Pietro had had, or even Steve before he'd figured out how to shield. But it looks good; it looks like something that is worthy of sending someone out into the woods and spending a lot of money on their apprentice fees. Or so Steve hopes.<p>Steve's never actually been to the Pierce estate. It's enormous and sprawling, with much more space than Steve has ever seen used like this. His flat is in a building full of flats, in a street packed with buildings jowl to jowl with each other, no space wasted. The Pierce estate is huge, and while Steve knows there are an army of servants and employees, in theory, it's all for one family.</p><p>There are vast gardens, very different from Pru’s garden at the barn's house. Where those gardens are arranged to maximize production of vegetables, fruits, herbs, and flowers, these gardens seem to be mostly broad expanses of smooth lawn interspersed with topiary and roses. In the distance, Steve can see a complex of stables and what look like to be equestrian rings. He's sure there's a kitchen garden somewhere on this estate, but it's nowhere someone might accidentally see it, and see that part of the land is useful. It's an entirely different mindset to the way the places Steve is most familiar with are arranged, and he doesn't quite know what it all means about the person whose lands they are.</p><p>There is a neatly tended little wood, interspersed with statuary, and Pietro, Sam, and Clint break off to wait there, while Steve and Bucky walk to the main building. A smooth graveled drive for carriages and the like curves around a large white fountain in front fo the main building, but foot paths diverge and lead to the door as well. Steve and Bucky walk to the great front door, and knock, only to be answered by majordomo who sends them around to a side entrance upon being told of their request to see Lord Pierce. </p><p>"Petitioners wait in the side hall," the majordomo tells them, and when Steve tries to protest that Lord Pierce asked to see him, not vice versa, his words are altogether ignored. A bored-looking guard takes their weapons—or Bucky’s weapons, anyway, since Steve doesn’t have any. </p><p>Instead, they are ushered to a long hallway lined with wooden benches, and several other people already waiting. Steve recognizes an older woman who is a frequent customer of his, sending letters to her daughter in the capital, and having her daughter's letters in return read to her, as she has only just enough literacy to see her about her day-to-day tasks. He smiles at her when she looks up as they walk in, but she drops her eyes back to her folded hands with no sign of knowing him, and Steve realizes with a jolt that most likely a lot of people won't recognize him, not the way he is.</p><p>Bucky notices his brief moments of pensiveness, and gives him a gentle nudge and a raised eyebrow, but Steve just shakes his head. They can talk about it later, when they're alone.</p><p>They wait, and Steve wonders if the majordomo has told Pierce who they are at all—or, he thinks with a burst of not entirely appropriate humor, maybe the importance of his mission for Pierce was only ever in his own head. </p><p>Time passes. Steve expects Bucky to start fidgeting, because he's never been that good at waiting, in Steve's experience, but he's surprised when Bucky settles into a deep, quiet stillness, and Steve ends up being the fidgety one. He wishes he had brought a sketchbook; he could do a series of static studies of abject boredom based on the faces of the people waiting here: boredom spiced with worry, or boredom so deep that it's nearly sleep, or boredom that's turning into anger over being left to be bored for so long.</p><p>In fact, the fine enameled timepiece on the mantle over the fireplace at one end of the hall has not even ticked over a full hour before the majordomo comes back and calls Steve.</p><p>At that, the woman who's been his client's head pops up, and she scans the room as though looking for him. She has a visible moment of doubt as her eyes land on his face, but then she shakes her head and they slide away again. Steve wonders if he possibly has a new career as a spy, at least until people start to recognize him again.</p><p>The majordomo leads them on, Steve following him, and Bucky dropping back a half a step behind, like he's Steve's bodyguard instead of his friend and… Steve doesn't have the word for what they are now; his not-quite husband. To be defined at some later point, he supposes, but love of his life might do, for now. The majordomo leads them up a flight of stairs and down broad hallways, both of their boot heels tapping on marble flooring. The walls are paneled wood, inlaid in geometric designs and hung with tapestries, mostly depicting hunting scenes. Pierce has new gas-light fixtures installed at intervals, but he's kept the old mage light sconces as well, and the new have been fashioned in the style of the old, so that it's a pleasing effect instead of a mishmash. Steve doesn't have any idea where the great hall might be, but on seeing the room that the majordomo leads them to, he can easily conclude that this is not it.</p><p>This is more of a personal office, Steve thinks; it's much grander and better outfitted then his own office in the Guildhall, but the idea is the same. Steve frowns a little to note a secretary's desk; he knew that Pierce had his own scribe and had no need to hire him, which just adds to his uneasy certainty that this trap is set just for him alone. Pierce has been coming to him for years. It's a long time to set this up, whatever it ends up being.</p><p>Pierce stands as the majordomo bows them into the room. It's an unexpected courtesy, and Steve doesn't trust it. "Welcome back," Pierce says, and then resumes his seat behind his desk. "I take it your journey was fruitful? You are...much changed since last I saw you."</p><p>"And who is this?" comes another voice. Steve turns to the corner to see Zola peering out at them over his spectacles. No; not at <i>them—</i>at Bucky. The man reminds Steve of a slug more than ever, but if a slug could somehow be predatory. Steve tries to quell the urge to step between the man and Bucky; he's already seen him, and it wouldn't do anything but tip Steve's hand that Bucky is important to him. </p><p>"James Barnes," Bucky says easily. "A ranger. I accompanied Steve into the woods."</p><p>"And did—this happen to you in the woods?" Pierce asks. His gaze rakes over Steve, taking in the changes. Steve makes sure the shield is firm in his mind. Pierce looking at him like this makes him feel awfully uneasy—rather the way he imagines a pig might feel being led to the slaughter, like whatever delayed magic of the people changed him like this has turned him into a particularly succulent side of bacon. </p><p>"I found what you asked me to," Steve says, since Pierce seems more interested in staring at his changed physique than in the antler he wanted Steve to find.</p><p>"Indeed," Zola breathes. It's not the reaction of someone seeing a cure for a sick person, and Steve shivers.</p><p>"Zola," Pierce admonishes, and then he turns the full weight of his regard onto Steve. He's going for avuncular, maybe, but it misses. "Thank you for going into the woods. My daughter's health is of utmost importance to me."</p><p>"Of course," Zola says, his gaze moving avidly from Steve to Bucky. Steve thinks he almost has to be trying to be this creepy on purpose.</p><p>"I'm just grateful that this might be able to help your daughter," Steve says. "Maybe this is presumptuous, but I'd love to meet her, if that's at all possible—see who it is that this will help."</p><p>"Certainly, that can be arranged," Pierce says magnanimously. He takes the antler from Steve and turns it over in his hands. Steve has to force himself not to wipe his hands on his trousers where their hands touched. "Out of curiosity," Pierce goes on. His eyes flick up from the antler to Steve's face, and then back down again. "Did you see any of the deer while you were in the forest?"</p><p>"No," Steve says, feeling certain that this is the best answer at the moment. "We didn't see them. James was able to show me some of the areas where the rangers think they travel through. We searched for tracks and antlers there." </p><p>"Ah, Yes, Ranger Barnes," Zola says. He hasn't even made a pretense of looking at the antler, but has continued to look as though Steve, and to some extent Bucky, are the real prizes here. "You've a sister with magical gifts, have you not?"</p><p>Steve feels make Bucky make an abortive movement in his side, and can't stop himself from turning to look at him. Bucky's lifted both eyebrows high, and his expression looks so much like Becca's that Steve might be tempted to laugh, in other circumstances.</p><p>"Yes," Bucky says slowly. "We are quite fortunate."</p><p>"Indeed." Zola’s eyes narrow.</p><p>Pierce shoots him a sharp look. "You've done very well. Indeed, you have quite surpassed my expectations."</p><p>"Thank you, sir," Steve says, although there are alarm bells ringing in his mind. ""You said—you said my mother told you who my father was."</p><p>"I did, didn't I," Pierce says softly. "That was, I suppose, a bit of an exaggeration, but I can tell you where he came from."</p><p>This is the first time that Pierce has admitted to an outright lie, and it makes the hairs on the back of Steve's neck stand up. "What do you know?" he asks.</p><p>"You were quite a young lad." Pierce stands up, and Steve can feel Bucky tense next to him, but Pierce only walks to the window and looks out, toward the forest. "I was riding by myself one day, and I happened to see your mother and you, picnicking with a man. Hardly unusual behavior, only I caught the tail end of the meal. You played with some toy on a blanket, and your mother embraced the man, and then he turned and left her, walking into the depths of the forest, away from the town and civilization."</p><p>"So he was a ranger," Steve manages.</p><p>Pierce laughs. It shouldn't be such a warm, kindly sound. "I think you and I both know that's not true. He went into the forest different than he was outside it...just like you." </p><p>"Nothing wrong with that," Bucky murmurs.</p><p>"Indeed there's not," Pierce says. He turns away from the window, back toward them. "In fact, it only makes someone like you, Steven, all the more interesting. Valuable, some might even say."</p><p>"Thank you, sir, but I'm really no different than I was before I went into the woods," Steve says carefully.</p><p>Pierce gives him a quick look, as if he suspects that's so much bullshit, and Steve holds tight to his mental shield, somehow certain that if magic leaks out of him, Pierce will know just as easily as any pack of hellpigs. "I think you'll find differently, as time goes on. I want to make you an offer."</p><p>"Sir?" Steve says. He doesn't have to feign confusion—he has no idea what's coming next.</p><p>"I'm aware that you have no family," Pierce says. "I'd like to make you my ward, a brother to my daughters. A man like you has many talents, and with a little encouragement, those talents could truly blossom."</p><p>"My mastery with the scribes—" Steve begins, but Pierce is already shaking his head.</p><p>"You're destined for so much more," he says. "I can help you reach your full potential. I can help you do great things."</p><p>Steve frowns. His thoughts are racing—it's telling that Pierce seems to want him for—something—so badly, but he's not sure what the best way to react is. If Pierce takes him to make him his ward, or whatever he actually has in mind, it might get him more access to Wanda and Natasha, but he might just end up imprisoned where his friends won't be able to get to him. And with the way Zola's looking at him like he's a delicious steak, he's not sure he wouldn't be locked up away from anyone else. Especially since Pierce has already said that he knows Steve doesn't have a family. And what is it, exactly, that Zola does?</p><p>"Excuse me," Bucky says, quietly, but firmly. "You said he doesn't have a family, but that's not exactly true. His mother's gone, yes, but he's practically a part of my family."</p><p><i>What are you doing, Buck?</i> Steve wants to yell, but he can't even step on Bucky's foot without it being obvious. He supposes this is Bucky's way of making sure that Pierce knows it won't just go unnoticed if Pierce does something to him, but Steve's afraid it's just putting more of a target on the Barnes family.</p><p>"Surely you want what's best for your friend, then," Zola pipes in.</p><p>"I thank you," Steve says slowly. "But I just want to go on as we initially discussed. I'm happy to have found you the antler, and all I really is what we talked about before—the funds for the mastery."</p><p>"Ah, well," Pierce says, and his smile goes from warm and avuncular to deeply unpleasant in the space of a moment. "We don't always get what we want, do we? I do wish you had taken my offer."</p><p>Bucky is at Steve's side instantly, pressing against him. The majordomo made him disarm, but he's pulled a knife out of somewhere, and it's in his right hand, the left flung out protectively in front of Steve.</p><p>Pierce laughs, and without raising his voice, says, "Guards."</p><p>Four men pour in from outside the door, which makes the office awfully crowded. Steve's heart is beating rapidly, and his gut churns with the thought of fighting these men, but there's really no option—Steve doesn't want to let them just take him, and he can see that Bucky's not about to let that happen, either.  </p><p>There's not much room to fight, between Pierce's big desk, the smaller secretary's desk in the corner, overstuffed sofa, the potted plant, and the eight people crammed into a small room. Steve hopes that, if nothing else, at least he'll be able to bleed copiously on the expensive looking rug on the floor.</p><p>There's a strange moment of silence, as they all hesitate, unsure who's going to make the next move, and who's going to break first. In the end, it's one of the guards. He starts toward Steve, and then Bucky is there to prevent him, slashing out with his knife, forcing the man back. Of course, this creates an opening for another guard to press forward, but Steve operates on the principle that if they want to capture him, they probably don't want to kill him, and comes up swinging.</p><p>Steve hasn't tried to fight anyone since he turned up bigger, but as a teenager, he’d been all too familiar with the sensation of a punch connecting to someone's face. Now, the only difference is that he has the muscle to back it, and the man reels back, stumbling. Steve doesn't want to admit it to anyone, but it is deeply, deeply satisfying.</p><p>He and Bucky fall into a close pattern of ducking and weaving and punching, keeping back to back and side to side where the two of them can defend each other, the cramped quarters working in their favor. But even so, Steve doesn't think they can stay ahead of the guards for very long, and he's right. Bucky fights like a man possessed, spinning and whirling, cape flaring out around him, two knives in his hands now—where did he get the second one?—defending Steve as though he could keep anyone from touching him. And Steve really, truly believes that he could, or at least that he would go down trying, only… Pierce is smiling.</p><p>Pierce watches as though all of this is a show put on for his amusement alone, and Steve thinks that he won't be able to stand it if Bucky is hurt trying to protect him.</p><p>"Zola." Pierce's voice is quiet, but Steve hears it anyway beneath the harsh ragged breaths of the men fighting, the occasional clang of a knife against armor or thud of a fist into flesh. That one word, softly spoken, somehow chills Steve more than the four men attacking him and Bucky.</p><p>Steve couldn't really visualize magic the way Joseph tried to explain it to him, but he can tell, all of a sudden, that Zola is doing <i>something,</i> and he feels certain that whatever it is doesn't mean anything good for him or Bucky. There are—tendrils of something stretching out from Zola's fingertips as he murmurs words to himself in a language that Steve doesn't know. Steve sees the glow around him, but unlike the glow he'd seen around any of the people, this one is a dull, angry reddish color. Steve can't make sense of it, but he knows it's nothing good, and as it reaches out toward both him and Bucky, Steve doesn't want to find out what it will do when it touches them.</p><p>"Buck," he says.</p><p>"I know," Bucky pants, in between ducking a knife swipe from one of the guards and a punch from the other, who seems to be unarmed—oh, that's where he got the second knife—then throwing his body between Steve and someone else. "We are not sticking around," Bucky says, and Steve only just realizes then that Bucky has been herding him toward the window. They're on the second floor, so while the fall won't kill them, probably, it will hurt to land, and going through panes of glass is not going to be fun.</p><p>Bucky has his head down towards his shirt, muttering into his collar, or the mirror there, anyway. There's only one guard now between them in the window, and Steve looks from the man, face grim, knife up, to Zola and the red tendrils that are moving ever faster toward them, and he thinks, <i>We aren't going to make it.</i></p><p>He sees the same calculus scroll across Bucky's face, but Bucky doesn't stop fighting. He interposes himself between Steve and Zola, and as the first red tendril hits him, Steve does the only thing he can do, and throws up the magical shield that's the only magic he knows how to work in between Bucky and the tendrils. He wishes he'd had the time to learn more spells than just the one, but, well, he didn't. Maybe Joseph will be pleased to hear that Steve thinks now that he should have listened then. But he has the one spell, and he turns the one he has from a defensive measure to an offensive one, and at the very least it catches Zola by surprise.</p><p>Zola staggers back, mouth a round O of surprise, spectacles glinting in the light from the window. Bucky yelps and grabs his arm where the tendril touched him, and shoves Steve hard at the window. "Go," Bucky yells, face contorted and voice strained with pain. "They don't want me, they want you."</p><p>"Not a chance," Steve snarls. "Both of us, or neither of us."</p><p>"As touching as this is," Pierce begins, and Bucky turns, a fierce light in his eye, and shoves Steve hard, through the window. The glass doesn't break, as Steve had imagined, but the unlatched window swings open. </p><p>Steve windmills for a second, trying to catch his balance, trying to stay and help with the guard he can see grabbing Bucky, but Bucky shoves him again, mouthing, "I'm sorry," as Steve plummets backward. </p><p>Steve's furious beyond what he has words for, at Pierce and at Zola and the nameless guards, but also at Bucky, because how dare he make Steve leave him, and aware in another part of his mind that he's mad at Bucky only to keep himself from absolutely losing it in fear for him, but most of his mind is focused on bracing himself for impact, trying to ready himself to roll to keep from breaking any bones—</p><p>—but the impact never comes. </p><p>Instead, strong hands hook under his armpits and pull him up. His body jerks uncomfortably with the movement, but it's a hell of a lot better than hitting the ground would have been. He twists his head and sees Sam, face grim and determined, and the wide sweep of strong wings to either side of him.</p><p>"We left Bucky," Steve yells over the wind, furious.</p><p>"Pietro and Clint are going to get him. We're not leaving him," Sam yells back.</p><p>They fly around in a large loop, back to the woods where Sam and the others were waiting until now, away from Pierce's estate. Steve would enjoy it more if he weren't fuming about Bucky and also terrified of plummeting to his death.</p><p>Somehow he's not surprised that, when Clint and Pietro catch up with them, they're alone.</p><p>"We were too late," Clint says softly. "They have him."</p><p>Steve looks over his shoulder at Pierce's estate. They might have him, but it won't be for long. Not if he can help it.</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. eight</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which we catch up with Bucky and find out what's been happening with Wanda and Natasha.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I have updated the tags because things get a little hinky in this chapter. Zola has Bucky and he's an asshole. I think it's within the bounds of what's canon-typical, but if I am wrong, please let me know and I will update the tags futher. </p>
<p>ALSO i have updated the chapter count because I opened up the final chapter to edit it and it was nearly 20k. What the heck! Anyway, it's two chapters now, so the final chapter count will be 11 chapters. &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Bucky comes to with an aching head and a shoulder in agony. He tries to sit up, jerks unpleasantly against restraints around his wrists, sending a jolt of agony up his entire left side, and comes to the conclusion that he is, unfortunately, strapped to some kind of table. He's no expert, but that doesn't seem like a good sign.</p>
<p>He cranes his head, taking in what seems to be a small windowless room. Unlike the other rooms he's seen in Pierce's estate—assuming that he's still on Pierce's estate, and the thought that he's not sends panic fizzing up his spine, not that he has time for panic at the moment—the walls are bare stone, and the door is thick wood with a small grille set into it. The word that inescapably comes to mind is "dungeon," and he doesn't like that at all.</p>
<p>There’s a small, bare shelf, of dark metal and wood. There are hooks on it, but nothing hanging from them. All of it is shiny with age and use, and he can’t help but think that it’s the kind of place where a torturer might rest his tools. He likes that even less. </p>
<p>He lies there for an interminable amount of time, listening as hard as he can to see if he can hear other prisoners, but he doesn't, even when he takes a chance and calls out in a low voice. No one answers, and maybe it's just as well. It's better for Wanda and Natasha if they're not being held here, isn't it? He thinks. He can't be sure through the throbbing pain in his head. He doesn't remember getting hit—doesn't remember how he lost the fight that ended him up here. </p>
<p>The last thing he remembers is pushing Steve through the window and hoping that Steve would have the chance to tell him how mad he was at him, and then...nothing. He can't reach up to feel his head for a lump, but rotating it back and forth on the table, there's no obvious sore spot; instead the whole thing feels like someone's taken a scraper to the inside of his skull.</p>
<p>His shoulder is another matter entirely. That, he remembers—the red energy that Zola somehow sent at him and Steve, Steve doing—something—a bright glow of energy that Steve thrust between them and Zola like a shield, and the pain that had erupted anyway—</p>
<p>He turns his head cautiously, trying to look at his shoulder. He's still wearing his leather armor and his cape, although he's certain he's been stripped of the knife he'd managed to sneak in and the one he'd gotten hold of, and he can't see anything—no slash in the armor, no burn marks—but the movement sends a new wave of pain though his head and shoulder both. He can't let himself think of what it might look like under there, or that wave of panic will swamp him again. Instead, he makes himself look at his armor, tries to catalogue what else he might have, if they haven't taken it.If he still has the necklace of Becca's charms—if Becca is still listening—</p>
<p>He doesn't know whether to hope for that or not. If something awful is about to happen to him, he doesn't want her to hear it, but if there's a chance she and Steve might be able to rescue him... He can't let himself dwell on it. He doesn't want to give up hope, but he was to be aware of how slim his chances are. But if nothing else, Steve got away. If he can hold one thought in his throbbing skull, it's that Steve is still free from whatever Pierce wanted to do to him.</p>
<p>He makes himself relax as best he can against the pain. He doesn't have a lot of experience at being a prisoner, but he's been injured on trips to the woods before, and he at least knows how not to make things worse for himself. He's all too sure that there will be other people doing that for him any moment now. </p>
<p>While he's still alone, he allows himself to think about Steve, and about the moments they shared together. It doesn't seem fair that it was only a few days, if he's going to end his time in Pierce's dungeon; but then again, those days were more than he'd let himself hope for in years. </p>
<p>But Bucky doesn't let himself think about that either. He doesn't know how much time he has, and he's not going to waste it on regrets. Instead he mentally replays his and Steve's time together—when he told Steve he loved him, the first touch of their lips together, every time Steve had referred to him as husband, even if it wasn't real. He will cherish it anyway.</p>
<p>He's not sure how much time passes before he hears footsteps in the hall outside his cell. He's not sure what to expect, and therefore he isn't surprised when he sees the glint of light off spectacles peering through the grill on the door. </p>
<p>Zola opens the door and lets himself in. Zola is carrying a black leather bag, the kind a healer might carry, full of supplies. Somehow, Bucky doesn't think that this bag contains anything so benign as a bandage or healing potion.</p>
<p>Zola stands and all he does is look at him for a moment, but he's radiating so much self-satisfaction that it makes Bucky's skin crawl.</p>
<p>"James Barnes," Zola says, somehow giving the impression that he's not so much tasting the names as weighing them with calipers, turning them over in front of him as though they are some strange foreign objects.</p>
<p>"That's me. I don't know what you want with me," Bucky says baldly. "I'm not special, not like Steve." He takes a breath, and then thinks, <i>fuck it.</i> What's he got to lose, at this point? "Not like those girls. Pierce's daughters." He tries to infuse the word <i>daughters</i> with all his disbelief and scorn, because, aside from everything else, Pierce's actions have not been even remotely those of a caring parent, and he wants Zola to know that he’s noticed .</p>
<p>"Very astute of you, James," Zola says softly. "But then again, I think there's more to you then you let on."</p>
<p>"I'm nothing special," Bucky says, almost defiantly.</p>
<p>"No, James," Zola says softly, "that is where I beg to differ. You are not like Steven, of course, but you have your own potential, and it would be criminal to waste it."</p>
<p>"What are you going to do to me," Bucky asks. "And what do you want with Steve?"</p>
<p>"You have so much to learn," Zola says, almost affectionately. It makes Bucky shudder, much worse than open hate or scorn would've done. "It seems unfair, does it not, that all these creatures of the forest have so much magic, and humanity has so little. A grave injustice." He sets his leather bag down on the table. Bucky's eyes are inexorably drawn to it. "But you, James, you have very great potential. Your sister's gifts are strong." He looks at Bucky with one eyebrow raised. He wants Bucky to ask what that has to do with him, Bucky thinks, so he won’t.</p>
<p>"Yeah, they are." Bucky shifts on the table, and immediately regrets it as a fresh wave of pain spills through him. "But they're her gifts, not mine. I've never shown a sign of any power at all." </p>
<p>"And yet you venture into the woods, day after day, year after year, and return with riches." Zola pulls a thin metal rod out of his bag. It doesn't look sharp, or even like it would pack much of a wallop if Zola hit him with it, but Bucky finds his eyes focus on it, and dread ripples down his spine. The metal is dark, and looks oily, faint, greasy rainbows reflecting menacingly along its length. "I think that speaks to some latent gift within you."</p>
<p>"No, that's a result of years of practice, and learning. It's just knowledge."</p>
<p>"Is it," Zola says. It's not a question. "Knowledge is such an unquantifiable thing. It can't be measured. Not in any scientifically accurate way."</p>
<p>This is so manifestly untrue that Bucky wants to protest—his parents tested him, over and over again, set him to learning from the great leather book where his family have written down their observations about the woods for generations, decades of knowledge distilled into pages for their descendants to study. Bucky had been drilled on his knowledge of the forest before he ever set foot amongst the trees. But Zola doesn't seem to want a contradiction, and if Bucky interrupts him, he might not find out whatever it is that he's going to say next.</p>
<p>"So what can be measured?" Bucky asks, trying to keep his voice measured.</p>
<p>"As it turns out… Power." Zola takes the metal rod and holds it inches away from Bucky's skin, running it up and down his torso without actually touching him. Bucky can't tell what he's trying to do, but he doesn't think it's his imagination that the oily swirls on the metal are smudging darker. "Your friend, Steven—well, his kind have all the magical power now, or most of it. They work magic by existing, while people like your sister—like me—have to toil and suffer to work their magic." </p>
<p>Bucky very carefully does not say that he's never seen Becca suffer for her magic, because it's not true—only earlier today, he had thought of the way that she had stayed up all night to help him, of the bruise dark shadows beneath her eyes. He knew that Becca was not the same kind of source of magic that it seemed Steve was, effortless, and even unconscious, but it was hardly a struggle for her to work magic the way Zola seems to be implying. But he keeps his silence, certain once again that his input is not wanted or required. Besides, he thinks of that dull red energy coming from Zola, and wonders what Zola had to do to use it.</p>
<p>"Humankind was once great, magically," Zola says. "Once the power that the animals now hoard in the forest flowed freely for us to use. Back in the days of the Red Skull…"</p>
<p>Bucky tries not to startle. The Red Skull has come up more in the last week then he's thought about the legend in the last ten years. "What does the Red Skull have to do with anything?" he asks.</p>
<p>The look Zola turns on him is smugly superior, the type of expression you give to someone who is ignorant and a bit of an idiot. "When the Skull lived, we beat back the forest, not just took its gleanings the way you and your family do. When the Red Skull was alive, he fought to place humanity over all the other creatures, and he was right to do it. It is the natural order of things."</p>
<p>"And you and Pierce want to bring it back," Bucky guesses.</p>
<p>This time the smile Zola turns upon him is one of a slow pupil who has nonetheless gotten a point drilled into their head. "Yes," Zola says. "You begin to see. It's a pity for your friend that he turned out to be a creature instead of a person, but he's hardly the only one. They're born with power that belongs to us, and we can bend it to our will, use it to serve us, as it was meant to."</p>
<p>Bucky thinks, privately to himself, that Zola is absolutely bugfuck nuts. His worldview is frankly disgusting, and if there's anything that Bucky is glad of, it's that he pushed Steve out of that window rather than let this man touch him. "Then what's the point of keeping me? Why this…" He strains his arms against the restraints, not in any serious way trying to escape, just showing Zola that he hasn't missed the fact that he's strapped to a table. "I'm nothing special."</p>
<p>"Ah, James," Zola says, "that's where you're wrong." He sets the metal rod down on the counter, and pulls a glass ball out of his bag. </p>
<p>Bucky saw a conjurer once, when he was a child and a traveling troupe of performers had stopped in the village for a time. The conjurer had done a trick with metal rings that interlocked together, and all of Zola's effects remind him of that kind of flummery. He only wishes that he could be sure it was nothing more than prestidigitation that was going to happen to him. </p>
<p>"Pierce's vision is that we turn the animals of the forest to serve us, and it's a good vision, as far as it goes. But I believe there's no reason that we should be solely dependent on lesser creatures to mold the world around us. I believe that that power is within us as well. And you, James. I think you have great potential. With a little nudge to get you on the right path, I think you could do great things. I think you could shape the times we live in."</p>
<p>Bucky really wishes that Zola would stop saying his name. The man can't possibly understand how downright delusional he sounds, trying to conjure up specters of a forgotten, possibly mythological past in which humanity had control over everything around them. It's a pipe dream, and a disgusting pipe dream as well, built as it is on setting other people apart as something completely other than people, despite all the evidence to the contrary, and then enslaving them. </p>
<p>"I don't know what you think you can do to me," Bucky says, "but I want you to know that I won't do it willingly. I won't be a party to this. I won't be a party to anything you want to do to the people of the forest, and I certainly won't do anything to hurt Steve."</p>
<p>"About that," Zola says. He reaches out and presses the glass globe to Bucky's left shoulder, right where the pain of his earlier spell had struck. As the glass globe gets closer, Bucky can see that it's swirling with the same kind of oily shadows that the metal rod was. It looks unearthly. It looks unclean. “What makes you think that you'll have a choice?" He presses the globe into Bucky's shoulder. What looks like glass contracts, melting and dissolving and penetrating Bucky's flesh through his clothes. This time, he's unable to stop his screams. The pain is unlike anything he's ever known, agony that feels like it's flaying him from the inside out. Worse than that, he can feel the dark, greasy hooks of Zola's magic sinking deeper into his skin, and maybe if he hadn't slept next to Steve's warm glow, he wouldn't know how wrong this is, but he had, and he does.</p>
<p>The scream breaks off in his throat, and his breathing turns into ragged gasps. He doesn't look at his left arm. He's afraid of what he'll see.</p>
<p>"Oh yes," Zola says. "With the fighting skills you demonstrated for me, and the latent magic I hope to awaken? You'll do nicely." He gets the metal rod, and presses it over Bucky's heart.</p>
<p>This time, Bucky screams until his throat gives out, and then he tries to scream when all that comes out are whimpers. When unconsciousness takes him, it's a blessing.</p>
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</div>Steve only manages to calm himself down to the point of being able to speak civilly to his friends by dint of walking off into the trees and storming around for a few minutes. He'll be the first to admit that this is not actually productive behavior, but it serves as enough of a valve for him to let off steam, so he can calm himself down enough to do something useful for Bucky.<br/>He walks back over to the others and apologizes, but Clint just says, "We've all done our fair share of kicking things over and punching walls. You're not the only one."<p>It does make Steve feel a little better to hear this. He takes a deep breath to further calm himself down. "Can we get out the other mirror? I don't think it could hurt to call in Becca."</p>
<p>They get the spelled mirror and Steve breathes on its silvered face. Almost instantly, Becca's frowning face appears, "Fucking finally," Becca snaps. Steve lifts the mirror up so he can see her better. The tiny image of her in the mirror meets his eyes, fogged with distance and a little warped from a bubble in the glass. "I'm calling in help," she says firmly. "Don't try to change my mind."</p>
<p>"I wouldn't dream of it," Steve says. "I think we're going to need all the help we can get. Pierce has Bucky."</p>
<p>"I know," she says, and there's something in her voice that Steve doesn't like. It sounds an awful lot like despair. "The connection to his mirror was open, until—I don't know. It cut off suddenly. I heard what they've been doing to him."</p>
<p>Steve can feel the blood drain from his face. His skin feels cold. "What are they doing to him?" he asks through numb lips.</p>
<p>"It's not good," Becca says. "I don't know exactly, but until it cut off, he was screaming."</p>
<p>Steve bites his lip so hard he tastes blood. They didn't even want Bucky—they'd wanted <i>him.</i> "This is my fault," he mutters, an ache in his chest like a hook through his heart.</p>
<p>"Man, shut up," Sam says sharply. "The only people whose fault this is are the people doing it to him. Trying to assign blame to anyone but them isn't going to help him get out of there any faster, and getting lost in those feelings might make things worse when it's time to act. He <i>chose</i> to help you. That was his choice, just like it's our choice to help him now."</p>
<p>Steve clenches his fists, then nods at Sam. "You're right." He takes a deep breath. "Thank you. Becca, do you think you can do anything to help us out here? I don't know what exactly Zola's up to, but he used some kind of magic on Bucky and me."</p>
<p>"Who's Zola, exactly? I think I heard him over the mirror," she says, brow furrowed.</p>
<p>"I've seen him in town before. One of Pierce's aides, I think. Maybe his sorcerer, I guess."</p>
<p>Even as small and dim as she is in the mirror, he can see her lip curl. "Well, I've never heard of him, which means he's not part of the community. I am, though, and I know every mage and hedge witch between here and the capital, and most of them will come to help if I ask. I don't know what he tried to do to you and Bucky, but it doesn't matter, because he won't do it again."</p>
<p>Steve looks at the set of her mouth, the firm determination in every line of her face, and he believes her. She always looks like Bucky to him, but the resemblance is even stronger now. "Thanks, Becca," he tells her, and she glares at him.</p>
<p>"He's my brother," she says simply. "Mom and Dad won't let this slide, either. The other rangers won't want to hear that Lord Pierce had one of us snatched right out of his hall."</p>
<p>"We won't let him stay there, ma'am," Clint says.</p>
<p>Becca's eyes move, trying to look over Steve's shoulder, and Steve obligingly moves the mirror so she can see. "And your friends, too—I'm so sorry. If we had known—"</p>
<p>"We won't let them stay there either," Pietro says.</p>
<p>"Wait until I get there," she tells them.</p>
<p>"We will," Steve says, "unless something happens."</p>
<p>For Bucky's sake—and maybe for his own, because he can’t stand waiting like this, knowing that Bucky’s being hurt—he hopes that something happens.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Bucky wakes up in pain—again.<p>"This is getting to be a bad habit," he mutters to himself, and winces at how rough his voice sounds, and how raw his throat feels. Almost like he'd screamed himself into unconsciousness. Oh wait, that was exactly what happened.</p>
<p>At least his head doesn't hurt so badly this time. On the other hand, that's more than made up by the ache through the rest of his body, like he's fallen out of a tree and been pummeled by every branch on the way down. And that's nothing to how his left arm feels: like someone's been hacking at it with a dull saw, perhaps, or hitting with a hammer until the bones are pulp. He takes in a shaky breath, and tears collect at the corners of his eyes, because it <i>hurts,</i> oh spirits, it hurts so bad.</p>
<p>But worse than the pain is the fear of what he'll see when he turns his head, and it's that anticipation of horror that has him straining to keep his breath from turning into sobs. Until he turns his head, it's his arm as last he saw it, instead of whatever’s been done to it to make it feel like this. Can he be a ranger with one functional arm? Will whatever this is need amputation?</p>
<p>Has it already been done?</p>
<p>He tries to wiggle his fingers, and that sends a wave of fresh agony through him. He can't even tell if they moved. He grits his teeth and turns his head to the side.</p>
<p>At first, he doesn't quite understand what he's seeing. Relief courses through him at first glance, because he can tell, at least, that it's <i>there.</i> His arm is wrapped in some kind of dark bandage, some fabric with an odd, familiar sheen to it. It draws the eye, but not in a good way. It's fascinating, to some extent, but also a little nauseating. He tries to wiggle his fingers again, and only when he succeeds does what he's looking at finally click into place.</p>
<p>It's not a bandage. It's his arm. </p>
<p>His skin looks like some kind of liquid metal, a gray so dark it's nearly black, a dark iridescent sheen like oil spilled on wet stone shimmering down the length of it, crossed with thin red lines that adjust and readjust as he moves. </p>
<p>He tries to sit up, and pain washes through him again, but, he realizes, he's not restrained this time. He manages to sit up enough to reach over with his right hand and touch the left. The skin feels slick beneath his questing fingers, cooler than the rest of his body, and the texture is—he doesn't know what it feels like, but it's not human skin. How can he ever touch Steve with this hand again? How can Steve possibly want him like this, made monstrous and foul?</p>
<p>He leans over the side of the—bed, he realizes; it's a bed, not the metal table—and heaves, vomiting out whatever's in his stomach, noticing that someone set a bucket there. Did Zola expect this to happen? Has he done it before? His eyes sting and water, and his nose runs, and his heart thumps against his ribcage like a frightened rabbit.</p>
<p>That's about how he feels, too—small and kicking out against a fate he can't escape.</p>
<p>He wipes his face on the hem of his shirt—the tattered remains of his nice clothes, he sees, ripped and stained from whatever was done to him. He pushes himself to his feet and staggers across the room to the dresser, where a pitcher of water and a washbasin wait. He splashes his face, rinses out his mouth, and drinks water directly from the pitcher. He makes himself take small sips, not wanting to throw it right back up again, and although it's room temperature and not particularly fresh, it feels like the best thing he's ever tasted. His various pains ebb a little as he drinks, and he makes himself set down the pitcher and take in the room he's in.</p>
<p>It's a bedroom, he notes with surprise, not the dungeon-slash-torture chamber he was in earlier. There are no windows, and the door, when he tries it, is locked from the outside, but aside from those details, it could be any bedroom: bed, dresser, wardrobe, bookshelf, chair. He tries to make himself think through the dull ache throughout his body whether this is a good thing or a bad thing. It probably means he's not going to be tortured again—or anyway, not immediately—but he doesn't like to think that this is <i>his</i> room in any way; that he'll be a guest of the estate for any longer than he has to be.</p>
<p>There's a soft knock at the door. He crosses the room as quickly as he's able—which is not very. Somehow, he doesn't think that Zola or Pierce would actually knock, so he isn't worried that it's them. He just doesn't know who else it could possibly be. He raises his hand to his neck to touch the charms that Becca gave him for reassurance—but they're gone. Stripped from him at the same time as his leather armor, he assumes. The loss aches, a different kind of pain than he’s been suffering. Becca’s charms had gotten him through so much, and were a tangible sign of her love.</p>
<p>"Who's there?" he asks, leaning against the door.</p>
<p>"Friends," is the laconic reply—a woman's voice.</p>
<p>"Wanda? Natasha?" he guesses.</p>
<p>The only answer is the sound of tumblers clicking as a key turns in the lock. He steps back, not wanting to to fall on whoever it is as they open it. The door swings open, and he tries to angle his body to keep his terrible left arm blocked from their view.</p>
<p>Two women are standing in the doorway, a short red-haired woman dressed in black leather armor not too different from the set he'd lost, and a taller brown-haired woman wearing a long red dress. "How did you know our names?" the taller woman asks warily.</p>
<p>"I met your brother, Pietro—and your friends, Clint and Sam."</p>
<p>The shorter woman closes her eyes for a brief moment, then opens them to look at him more closely. Her eyes are green, he notes. "You found our message? In your things?"</p>
<p>"You're not the one Pierce expected to keep," the other woman says, examining him closely.</p>
<p>"I'm Bucky," Bucky tells them. "And, no. He was hoping to get my friend Steve, not me. I'm not sure why they wanted me."</p>
<p>"Zola," the taller woman says like a curse, and shudders. "I'm Wanda.”</p>
<p>"Are you going to stand in the doorway, or are you going to let us in?” the other woman—Natasha—says. "If anyone comes by and sees us—"</p>
<p>Bucky opens the door wider and steps away so they can get inside. Once they're in and the door is closed, Wanda lets out a breath. "We are not allowed to hurt any of Pierce's people," she says, "but we're hoping Zola won't have had time to put the compulsion on you."</p>
<p>"Compulsion?" Dread tightens Bucky's throat. There's no way to make that sound good.</p>
<p>"Yes," Natasha says. "Neither of us can disobey Pierce or Zola, and we're not allowed to harm any of their people. It's very frustrating. But you—" She breaks off, her eyes narrowing as she takes and Bucky's arm. "What did he do to you?"</p>
<p>"I don't know," Bucky says, swallowing around the sudden lump in his throat. "It hurts, but he didn't exactly tell me what he was doing while he did it."</p>
<p>"Of course he didn't," Wanda says soothingly, and she takes his left hand between her own and examines it. Bucky has to swallow the urge to snatch it back from her, to refuse to let her touch it, as though it might contaminate her. He can still feel her touch—it doesn't feel any different than it would've had she touched his right hand—but the colors swirl a little faster as she touches it. She frowns and flexes her fingers, and red light edges shapes in the air between them. Bucky can't help a small gasp.</p>
<p>"I know," Wanda says. "It looks different, doesn't it? If you met Pietro, then you know what the people look like when we do magic.” She looks from his hand to his face. “I miss him. Where did you meet him?"</p>
<p>"Pierce sent Steve into the forest to bring him back in antler. The people found us—well, they found him, and I happened to be there. They took us back to the town where your people live."</p>
<p>She nods matter-of-factly. He can <i>feel</i> her magic under his skin; it feels like water rushing around his hand, but it doesn't feel wet, and he’s not feeling it with his skin. It’s weird. "The magic there is very different from what Zola does.” </p>
<p>"How is it possible?" he asks.</p>
<p>Natasha has been watching Wanda's fingers move, and now she snorts. "They've remade and reshaped us in images of their own liking. They made Wanda more powerful, a witch like the sorcerers in the stories of old. They made me a killer. Pierce has been sending me to destroy his political rivals. And you…"</p>
<p>"And me?" Bucky licks his dry lips.</p>
<p>"I don't know what he tried to make you. Not yet."</p>
<p>"He said something about the way I fought, and humans having magical potential," Bucky said. "It sounded insane."</p>
<p>"I won't try to argue his sanity to you," Wanda says. She flicks her wrists, and the red light surrounding Bucky's left arm intensifies. The colors in his arm move to match it. He has to look away. "Unfortunately, his sanity doesn't seem to affect his results, not when he's making people like us."</p>
<p>"What does he want to do with us?" Bucky says.</p>
<p>"Pierce has a vision of humanity taking over the entire world people, with like him on the top and everyone else below him," Natasha says. "He's been using Wanda and I to solidify his position, with every step intended to take him closer to realizing his vision. If I were to guess, he wanted your friend, and now you, either to help eliminate his rivals in the human court, or to be part of his army of oddities that he intends to take over the forest."</p>
<p>"Take over the forest?" Bucky knows he sounds incredulous, but he's never heard such a stupid idea. You could no more take over the forest then you could take over the ocean. One way or another, you'd drown. "An army in the forest would be dead of rampaging hellpig before it even got past the shallows."</p>
<p>"Most armies, sure," Wanda says. She finally lets go of his hand, and the red energy snaking through the air disappears. "An army of people like us, though? I don't know."</p>
<p>"Well, we won't get very far with just the three of us," Bucky says. "Besides, he can't make us invade the forest." </p>
<p>Natasha and Wanda exchange a grim look. "You might recall we mentioned compulsions," Natasha says. "He can make us do a lot of things."</p>
<p>A shiver runs down Bucky's spine. "Fuck," he mutters.</p>
<p>"But that's why we're here," Wanda says. "There are compulsions on both of us, but we don't think he had time to put one on you yet. </p>
<p>"It's a spell," Natasha says. "He needs you to be awake when he casts it, so you'd know if he did it to you."</p>
<p>"No," Bucky says. He runs his right arm down his left. "Just this."</p>
<p>"That's more than enough," Wanda says. "He'll probably be coming back to you today to cast the compulsion on you, so we don't have much time. If he lets it go as long as tomorrow, I'd be shocked."</p>
<p>"The best time to go find the compulsions is now," Natasha says impatiently.</p>
<p>"I should get dressed," Bucky says. "At least some shoes." If he goes wandering around the estate like this, in the tattered remains of his finery, he'll draw a lot of eyes. If he can get a shirt with full sleeves, his arm won't show, and he can't help but think how much less noticeable he will be.</p>
<p>"There should be clothes in the wardrobe," Wanda says.</p>
<p>Bucky digs through the wardrobe and finds several sets of everyday clothes, trousers and shirts; much, much nicer than anything he has at home, but nothing, he presumes, that would look too out of place in a nobleman's estate. He turns his back on the ladies, and changes his clothes as quickly as he can, hoping for all their sakes that they're not really looking. There aren't any shoes that he'd care to take into the woods, but there are some decorative slippers that he supposes are some kind of house shoe appropriate for walking around indoors, not too different from what Wanda and Natasha are wearing, except in size. He grimaces, but he supposes they're better than nothing, so he shoves his feet in.</p>
<p>"How do we break the compulsions?" he asks, once he's dressed.</p>
<p>"I don't know how much you know about magic," Wanda says, "but magic users often bind spells into objects, if they want the spell to endure. Zola keeps them in his office."</p>
<p>"Like Pierce's office?" Bucky asks. "Pierce took us there."</p>
<p>Natasha grimaces. "No. It's much closer to the cell where you were kept before. It's where he works on a lot of his experiments. If we start walking, I can show you just as easily as tell you."</p>
<p>Bucky takes the hint, and turns to follow them. He winces. "I'm not gonna be running any races anytime soon. Whatever he did to me, it still hurts."</p>
<p>Wanda is at his side in an instant. "I'm sorry," she says. "I should've asked. It's not often that his experiments don't hurt." She puts her hand on his forehead, and red light flares around the edges of his vision.</p>
<p>"What are you doing?" he asks, but before the words are even out of his mouth, he can feel cool spreading from her fingertips through him, banishing the aches and pains in his body in its wake.</p>
<p>"It's not true healing," she says a little sadly. "You need rest, and time to recover. But since we don't have that, at least I can make the pain go away, for a little while."</p>
<p>"Thank you," he breathes. The surcease of pain is a pleasure all its own, and he appreciates it, even if, as she says, he still needs to heal.</p>
<p>"Come on," Natasha urges, and he follows her out of the room.</p>
<p>Natasha and Wanda seem to know every crevice and pathway of the estate, leading him down little used corridors and through servants' stairs instead of the richly paneled hallways he and Steve had walked with the day before—or whenever it had been; Bucky's sense of time is uncertain with so many gaps in it.</p>
<p>The halls seem to get dimmer, and the stonework plainer. It does remind him of the room where he was tortured, and remade, although he's not letting himself think too hard about that. Wanda and Natasha are extremely cautious, making sure the corridors are clear of other people before they walk down them. One time, two servants carrying a covered platter and a bottle of wine and two glasses, respectively, start down the hall toward them, and Natasha flings out an arm to keep him still while Wanda curves her fingers and red light springs up around them. </p>
<p>"They won't see us," Wanda whispers, and indeed, it seems that they don't, as they walk by, talking to each other about a tryst between two of their friends, Bucky thinks. They hold still until the footsteps have faded away down the hall, and then they walk on.</p>
<p>"Do we need to worry about Pierce?" Bucky says. He can't even bring himself to ask about Zola. Whatever they tell him, he's going to worry about him anyway.</p>
<p>"Pierce should be receiving petitioners in the great hall right now," Natasha says. "We saw him leave."</p>
<p>Bucky looks at her, a question on the tip of his tongue, but not sure how to phrase it. Wanda seems to interpret it anyway. "We are his most valuable weapons," she says, a bitter twist to her lips. "He names us his daughters, and he keeps us close so that he can keep an eye on us."</p>
<p>"And you can go where you will on the estate?" Bucky asks.</p>
<p>"We can't leave it," Wanda says simply. "That's part of the compulsion too. We can't leave unless he allows us."</p>
<p>Bucky thinks of his days spent wandering in the forest, coming and going as he pleases, his only goal to bring back enough to support his family, and then he thinks of being confined to these walls, at the whim of his torturers. He shudders.</p>
<p>"Zola is most likely not awake yet," Natasha says. "He often spends hours in his laboratory in the dead of night, possibly so that no one can see what he's doing, and he usually sleeps late. With luck, we can avoid him."</p>
<p>"Will he know when we break the compulsions?" Bucky asks.</p>
<p>"I don't know," Wanda says. "We should move fast, just in case."</p>
<p>They go down a narrow set of stairs. The treads are well worn, but there's dust in the corners, suggesting that even if they are walked often, they are cleaned infrequently. Bucky follows Wanda and Natasha down the steps, heart thudding, all too loud in his own years. What if Zola catches them in his workroom? What if, despite what Wanda and Natasha think, he can't break the compulsions any more than they can? But if he lets himself dwell on everything that could go wrong, he'll lose all heart, so he shoves those thoughts to the side and walks down the steps.</p>
<p>The door at the bottom of the steps is locked, but Natasha raises one eyebrow and pulls an intricate, filigreed key out of a pocket. "I made a copy ages ago," she tells him when she sees him looking. "We needed information about what he was up to far too badly to let his workroom go unexplored."</p>
<p>Bucky doesn't know what he expected to see from a sorcerer's workroom, but the reality is that there are fewer skulls and taxidermied ravens than one might expect. There are shelves and cabinets everywhere, and a desk covered in notebooks and loose sheets of paper filled with a cramped, angular hand. Bucky's stomach swoops unpleasantly when he sees a hurried sketch of a black arm crossed with red lines. He shivers. But he makes himself go to the page and read it, because any information that he can get can only be helpful. Unfortunately for him, most of it is in some kind of shorthand that he doesn't recognize—Steve might be able to puzzle it out, because he uses shorthand himself, but Bucky is completely stumped. He does see a few words written long: "transmutation," "control," "purify," and "disrupt." He bites his lip, so frustrated he could scream, but that won't accomplish anything.</p>
<p>"Here," Wanda says tersely, and opens one of the cabinets.</p>
<p>Bucky takes the sheet of paper with the drawing of the arm, folds it, and jams it into his trouser pocket. Spirits willing, maybe he'll get the chance to have Steve examine it and try to decipher it.</p>
<p>But for now, he turns his attention to the devices in the cabinet that Wanda opened. They're like nothing he's ever seen before, glass balls holding what look like shifting shadows, wrapped in wire and set in metal bases. They look uncanny, as unnatural as his arm, and with the same kind of strange, sickening beauty. "What do I need to do?" he asks.</p>
<p>Wanda and Natasha exchange glances. "The spell is bound into the physical object," Wanda says. "All you should have to do is break it." She reaches out and tries to pick up one of the objects, set around with twisting lines of carved antler, but a spark of red light jumps from the orb to her fingers, and she pulls her hand back, hissing.</p>
<p>Bucky tries to pick up the same orb, cautiously. Nothing sparks or jumps at him when he puts his right hand near, so he grasps it more confidently. The glass will be easiest to break, he thinks, so best to start with that and then worry about the metal and antler if they need to. He rears his hand back and brings the orb down hard on the corner of the desk.</p>
<p>Instead of shattering, though, it bounces off the edge of the wood, sending a painful reverberation up his arm.</p>
<p>"Fuck," he says, dropping it and shaking his hand. "Fuck!"</p>
<p>The orb doesn't shatter when it hits the ground, either. Bucky feels a chill go through him. Does Zola know they tried something just from that? Wanda is watching with wide eyes, and Natasha looks like she's clenching her jaw. He thinks, numbly, that this can't be it, for no other reason than if it is, they're fucked.</p>
<p>Then he remembers the sheet of paper and the word "disruption," and thinks—maybe he tried with the wrong arm. He bends down and picks up the orb with his left hand, and as soon as he picks it up, he can feel the difference. In his right hand, the orb had felt like glass; in his left, it hums and vibrates under his touch. He can feel the energy in it, and it has personality—a malignant, cold personality. He hates it at first touch, and he can feel that it doesn't particularly like him either. He can feel, too, that there's a long tendril of magic reaching out to Wanda. It has hooks in her, and it feels ugly to him. He lifts the orb to smash it down again, and even before he smashes it, he can feel the glass and metal deforming under the fingers of his left hand.</p>
<p>When he swings it down on the corner of the desk, this time, it explodes in a shower of glass and metal and sparks, and the cloud of smoke inside billows out. It wafts toward Wanda, and he doesn't know what will happen if it touches her, but he knows he doesn't want to find out.</p>
<p>He reaches out toward the smoke, and on instinct, tries to grab it. It shouldn't have any effect on the smoke, but it does—the smoke dissipates with a not-quite-sound on the very edge of his hearing, like a tiny, wailing shriek. He can feel its anger at being denied its goal—Wanda—and then it's gone. The magic lingers in the air, and then he can feel his arm sucking the magic in. It glows a little brighter, dark rainbows swirling across the surface. He doesn't know what to think about that.</p>
<p>Wanda gasps in a breath and straightens up as if a weight has been lifted off of her shoulders. She twists her hand and magic flows off her fingertips, a brighter red now, not weighed down by whatever the compulsion had done to her.</p>
<p>"My turn," Natasha says, and he turns back to the cabinet. The other doesn't have antler on it, but metal wires arranged in a web, and in the center of it a dark red spider wrought of metal and jewels. When he picks it up, he feels the same kind of oppressive influence he felt from the other, and this one sounds like it's—calling out, he thinks, tattling on them to Zola. The thought makes his stomach churn and he wastes no time destroying this orb, too. The glass smashes on the desk edge and he captures this smoke too, strangling it as he had done the other, and letting the arm consume its magic.</p>
<p>It feels—good. He feels energized, like there's potential boiling under his skin, in his fingertips—at least of the one hand. He's not sure how he feels about this, either, but it doesn't feel evil or controlling, the way the orbs had. It just feels—there.</p>
<p>Natasha bends down and scoops up the jeweled spider, tucking it into her belt. "This was mine," she says, and then, "Thank you."</p>
<p>"Of course," he says. "But we need to get out of here. The orbs—that second one was trying to call to him."</p>
<p>He looks in the cabinet, and there aren't any more orbs, but there are are some other glass and metal things, and when he runs his left hand over them, it feels like a hive of angry bees, so he grabs handfuls of them and starts squeezing, watching as they dissolve, catching the smoke or sparks that come from them and letting his arm drink them in.</p>
<p>"What are you doing?" Natasha asks. "You were just saying we need to go."</p>
<p>"Yeah." He drops the mangled remains of whatever they were back into the cabinet and shuts the door. "Just messing up whatever I can on the way out. Let's go."</p>
<p>Natasha and Wanda lead the way, and he follows. He can feel the coiled power that his arm took from Zola's compulsions and spells, and he doesn't know what he could do with it or how he could use it, but the potential is there. Wanda seems delighted, sending coils of red energy around them as they walk. Natasha is more controlled, but she keeps glancing over her shoulder to smile at Wanda.</p>
<p>They go back up the staircase and through a series of halls that grow more populated until they have to be careful of servants. But with Wanda's powers unfettered, they dodge them easily. Natasha leads them by the kitchens, to a small wooden door that leads to a courtyard and from there to the kitchen gardens, large orderly plots full of vegetables and herbs, not visible from the front of the estate.</p>
<p>"There's a path to the woods," Natasha says. "We can—"</p>
<p>But then, the huge bell at the top of the belltower rings. Bucky's never heard it except on festival days, never to raise the alarm. He doesn't doubt for one moment that it's for them.</p>
<p>"Run," he suggests, and they all take off toward the woods, but he hears the gates clang open and the tread of booted feet behind them. They're so close, but not close enough to make it, he thinks. All they can do is try.</p>
<p>They run, and for a moment, he thinks they might be fast enough, lucky enough to make it, but then a tendril of red energy strikes him in the back and wraps around him, tripping him up, and he faceplants into the dirt. He pushes himself up, still tangled in that malignant energy, and turns to see his worst expectations realized—Zola and Pierce together, walking toward him.</p>
<p>Natasha hesitates, and he yells, "Run!" but doesn't see if she listens to him or not, because Zola is there, and he looms larger than anything else in his vision. His mouth is dry and his heart is pounding.</p>
<p>"Ah, James," Zola says. "Leaving so soon? I wasn't done with you."</p>
<p>Remembered pain floods through Bucky's body as he struggles against the magic. He doesn't want this. He tries to scrabble backwards, but Zola has his leg wrapped up in his spell, and Bucky can’t move. Panic rises in him, clawing at his throat. He tries to keep calm, but a red tide is rising behind his eyes, graying out everything around him. </p>
<p>He can’t let Zola take him again.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Steve has never been good at waiting. Becca is on her way with whichever of the local magic users she could gather together, and Steve knows that it's the smart thing to do, to wait for her before trying to take back the estate, but he feels like he's got a timepiece in his chest, right next to his heart, and every second that ticks away makes him more and more anxious. What are they doing to Bucky in there? Becca said she heard screaming. He can't stand the thought of it.<p>"Won't be long now," Sam says for at least the fifth time, and he seems like a very nice man, but Steve might have to strangle him if he says it again.</p>
<p>Pietro looks more like Steve feels—he's unable to stop fidgeting and has been jiggling one foot, or tapping his thumb against his leg, or pacing back and forth for the last hour at least. Steve sympathizes—he sympathizes a lot—but also, it's annoying. Clint is waiting laconically, leaning against a tree as though he hasn't got a care in the world, but whenever Steve looks over, his jaw is clenched tight, so Steve figures he's just slightly less expressive than Pietro or Steve himself. The tension pools up again, in time with the tapping of Pietro's heel, and Steve thinks he might be about to snap when instead, something snaps for him.</p>
<p>Bells ring out, sudden and deep, the enormous bells at the top of the oldest tower of the estate, resonant and so damn loud. Steve has heard them before, but usually only to mark the end of harvest, when the last crops are pulled into the preserving sheds, the last bales of hay rolled, and the entire town, agricultural workers or not, takes off for a day to celebrate the end of the season of the backbreaking labor of harvest, and the beginning of the tedious labor of preservation of foodstuffs.</p>
<p>But it's not harvest time now, and the bell doesn't ring in a pattern the way it does for festivals, but just a long, sonorous klaxon.</p>
<p>Alarm bells, Steve realizes, and his heart kicks in his chest in a way that should have him worrying about a possible stroke, because he <i>knows,</i> he is absolutely certain, that the bells are because of Bucky, and Pierce is signaling some terrible thing that's going to happen to him.</p>
<p>Steve doesn't stop to think, and he certainly doesn't stop to consult with his companions. He immediately takes off running toward the estate.</p>
<p>Someone yells something behind him, but he can't understand it, and he's not about to stop and ask them to clarify. Instead he just pushes harder, a burst of speed that would have been impossible for him to sustain before he went into the forest and was transformed. He's fleetingly grateful to his father and his unknown heritage, because this is a gift that will get him to where he needs to be. He's running with long, ground eating strides, but a pale shape passes him—Pietro, shockingly fast even in his human shape. Steve puts on a fresh burst of speed when he sees armored men spilling out of the main building of the estate.</p>
<p>Pietro pulls up to a hard stop in front of him, and Steve does too instinctively, only then recognizing the shape sprawled on the ground as a person—as Bucky.</p>
<p>Dull red light is wrapped around Bucky's feet, pulsing with an unholy glow. Bucky looks panicked, his eyes completely ringed with white and rolling from side to side, looking for an escape. He looks more or less unharmed, but <i>something</i> happened to him to put that terror in his eyes, and Steve does not think of himself as a violent person, but he wants nothing more than to put his hands on the short man in glasses standing over Bucky menacingly and rip him into tiny pieces.</p>
<p>"Hold," a commanding voice calls out, and Steve sees Pierce approaching with the guards he'd seen coming out of the estate: ten of them, he estimates without wanting to take the time to count. Two women stand frozen a dozen strides away from Bucky, stopped, he thinks, when they noticed Bucky being entrapped by Zola's spell.</p>
<p>Zola is saying something, but his words are garbled by the sound of Steve's heartbeat, loud in his ears, and the fury that's racked him at the sight of Bucky's fear, pulsing in his veins along with his blood. Red light gathers around Zola's fingertips, and Steve doesn't have to know what he intends to know that it's going to be bad. He summons up the shield, and it's not exactly the way Joseph taught him, but it's the way he'd figured it out the last time they'd come up against Zola. He calls energy, picturing it protecting him, picturing it protecting Bucky, and then he throws it, sending it out toward Zola. It hits Zola's hands, and Steve can feel the rebound of it, and at the same time, realizes he's glowing brightly enough to see it on his own skin in the daytime.</p>
<p>Bucky's head whips around, the panic leaving his eyes as he finds Steve. Steve can't hear him, but he sees his mouth shape his name, and some of the anger leaches from him as he sees sense return to Bucky's eyes. Bucky claws at the red webbing surrounding his legs, and Steve doesn't know how he's pulling it free with his frantic, grabbing movements, but Steve doesn't have to know, because it's working. Bucky frees himself and lurches to his feet, and then Steve finds he's running again, coming to meet him, and Pietro dashes by him, to the women.<br/>
Steve helps pull Bucky forward, getting him to his feet, and they stumble after the others. Zola yells, a wordless sound of rage, but Steve ignores him.</p>
<p>"After them," Pierce yells, but Steve doesn't turn to look. "Those men are abducting my daughters.” And, yeah, that's not good. Steve helps Bucky stumble into a jolting run, his motions much more graceless than usual, and Steve aches to think of what’s been done to him.</p>
<p>"We've got to get to the woods," Sam yells from overhead. He and Clint have caught up with them, Sam sweeping through the air above them, Clint running up on foot, maybe hoping not to show that he can transform, maybe wanting to stay close to the women.</p>
<p>"Let's split up," Steve says. "Once we're in the woods, Bucky and I will try and draw them deeper into the woods. The rest of you—please, get reinforcements. We won't be able to hide from them for too long, and I don't want to think about what they'll do to us if they catch us."</p>
<p>"We won't let that happen," the red-haired woman says firmly. Steve assumes that she's Natasha, by the way the other woman and Pietro are clutching hands and muttering to each other in quick asides.</p>
<p>"If we can get to the woods," Bucky says, panting, "with enough of a head start, we can lose them for a little while."</p>
<p>"The upside is they won't use arrows," Clint says. "They can't risk hurting Wanda and Natasha, not after Pierce said they were his daughters."</p>
<p>They make it to the little woods on the border of Pierce's estate. It's not the forest, but it will serve as good cover, Steve thinks. If they keep moving quickly, they should be able to get to the shallows of the forest a lot quicker than Pierce's guards. There's a reason Bucky never wears his armor when he's moving through the forest, and it's that all those buckles and leather plates catch on branches and twigs, and even leather armor is too heavy to climb over roots and rocks—and the guards are wearing plate. Steve lets himself feel a small thread of hope. Maybe they can do this.</p>
<p>But then he hears shouts and crashes in the underbrush behind them, and he tells himself not to hope too much.</p>
<p>Not yet.</p>
<p>With Bucky wheezing a little next to him, Steve follows the others deeper into the woods.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. nine</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which our heroes make a stand and nasty little fellows get their comeuppance.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There's no real way to track the passage of time as they move through the woods, but Steve thinks it's over an hour before they reach the border of the forest. Pierce's manicured woods only went on for perhaps a quarter of a mile, the border of his estate marked with a low stone wall. They had climbed over it easily, moving into woods that belonged to no one, not yet the forest proper, but not claimed by the town, either. Outside of the estate, birds call and small animals crash through the undergrowth, and all of it sounds shockingly normal, compared to the staccato thump of Steve's pulse.</p><p>Bucky leans on him a little as they walk, but if he's hurt, or aching, he doesn't complain. Instead, he slows his steps now and then to break off an obvious branch, or rip his sleeve on a tree trunk to leave a dangling thread, or, once, to go back and leave a footprint in the sandy bank of a rivulet they had all stepped across without leaving a trace.</p><p>"What are you doing?" Steve asks.</p><p>"We want them to follow us," Bucky says. "We're not doing too much to hide our trail, but I don't know if Pierce's men are any good. Thought I'd make it a little easier for them, just so they don't lose us." They've put enough distance between themselves and Pierce and his men that Steve doesn't hear them immediately on their heels, but he's aware that they're behind them, and that awareness presses against him, tightening his throat and his jaw.</p><p>Steve didn't expect it, but he can tell when they go from the forest around Trowburne, the kind he’s wandered most of his childhood, into the shallows of the woods. It's like he was hearing a sound, and it's suddenly gone silent, or like he was missing a smell of home, and smelled it. But it's none of those things, he knows; it's the magic of the forest and curling around him, twining around the magic within him. It feels good. Peaceful.</p><p>But he doesn't have time to dwell on it. Once they're in the shallows of the forest, Natasha, Clint, and Sam head for the canopy, while Wanda and Pietro shift to deer form and head back to the community to get reinforcements. What they'll do, exactly, Steve doesn't know—he remembers Pietro telling him that they're not warriors and they have no army, but then, he thinks, if there are ten or twelve men from Pierce's estate and dozens of people around them, surely they'd choose not to fight, knowing they couldn't win. But it's probably best not to bet too hard on what Pierce will and won't do.</p><p>"We'll be back soon," Wanda says, her eyes resting on Bucky, before she and Pietro transform.</p><p>"You know how fast we can go," Pietro says, smiling. And then they shift forms, and bound away into the woods, and it's just Steve and Bucky.</p><p>"I don't suppose we've got anything to eat or drink," Bucky says, a wan smile crossing his face.</p><p>"No," Steve says. "What we had is back in the woods by the estate."</p><p>"I don't think we're too far from the river." Bucky's hand goes to his neck, then falls away. "I don't have my purifying charm. I don't have any of my charms—they took them all."</p><p>"What did they do to you?" Steve asks. He almost hates to say it, but he needs to know.</p><p>Bucky shudders "I don't exactly know all of it," he says. "Zola used—magic, I guess." He sets off into the forest, and Steve follows him, occasionally laying a track or breaking a branch to show they’ve been there, for the benefit of their pursuers. They walk in silence for a little, Steve trying not to dwell on what a non-answer Bucky had given him—considers telling him that Becca heard him scream, but decides not to.</p><p>"Natasha thinks he was trying to make me some kind of weapon," Bucky says abruptly. "He said something about that—something about how he had seen me fight, and how there was potential for magic in my bloodline, blah blah blah."</p><p>"Yeah, but what did he do to you?" Steve says. "Don't tell me if you don't want to but, Buck, I'm imagining all kinds of awful things."</p><p>"Well, you're not imagining wrong." Bucky barks out a laugh, and then stops in his tracks. Steve stops too, not knowing what they're doing, or if this is really the time to do it, but determined that whatever Bucky needs from him, he'll have.</p><p>"He did something to my arm," Bucky says. He moves his left arm away from his side, forward, so Steve can see it, and it's only then that Steve realizes that he's been keeping the bulk of his body between that arm and Steve, that every time he's reached out to break a branch or move a vine out of the way, he's done it with his right hand only.</p><p>And now Steve sees why. Bucky is wearing long sleeves, and they hide most of his arm, but not the hand. The hand is another color entirely, black like a snake scale, or, Steve corrects himself, like a starling or a grackle's feather, black but with shades of purple, green, and blue, dull jewel tones reflecting on his skin. As Bucky flexes his hand, Steve can see faint red lines, almost as though there are plates that move and flex along with Bucky's fingers. He has his hand out to take Bucky’s, almost without thinking, but Bucky pulls his hand back before Steve can touch it.</p><p>"How far up does it go?" Steve says hoarsely.</p><p>"All the way to the shoulder." Bucky tugs the collar of his shirt to the side so Steve can see where that strange black color meets the tan expanse of his shoulder. It's not a hard line, but perhaps a finger's width of transition between the old skin and the new.</p><p>"Does it hurt?" Steve has to clear his throat twice before he can get the sentence out.</p><p>"Not anymore. Wanda did something to it—to me—to help with the pain. When I first woke up, it felt like he'd been working me over with a crowbar or something. Like I'd been beaten to a pulp."</p><p>"Buck," Steve says, and then doesn't know what else to say. He can't imagine how frightening it must've been to wake up to something so different, and not, like Steve had, the results of some natural, albeit mysterious, process, but as a result of human maliciousness. "Are you okay?" he manages to ask, because at least it's hard to go wrong with that.</p><p>"I don't know," Bucky grunts as he shoves aside a mass of vines. "I'm not sure what he did to me. I don't know what he wanted the arm to do." He stops and digs in his pocket and passes Steve a piece of paper. "See if you can make anything out of this."</p><p>The first thing Steve notices is, of course, the drawing of the arm—it's hard to miss when he's just seen it on Bucky's body. Then he looks at the words around it—some kind of shorthand. There are a few things written out, but mostly the notes are scribbled in what he assumes to be Zola's personal code. He's seen shorthand before, of course; he's taken down dictation for people, and transcribed other people's notes. This is complicated, he assumes, by the fact that he has no idea what Zola is talking about here, or whatever magical terms he's using.</p><p>But he can glean that Zola intended for Bucky's arm to be a disruptor of spells, destroying spells and funneling their energy for someone—Zola, presumably—to use. <i>Assassin?</i> is noted in one corner, and Steve realizes that he must have meant to send Bucky against people with magical protection...to steal their magic, and then kill them? Steve feels his face twist up at the thought of kind, gentle Bucky, <i>his</i> Bucky, being sent to do those things.</p><p>"That bad, huh," Bucky says. He's watching Steve, not looking at the forest or the paper in Steve's hand. </p><p>Steve folds it up and puts in his pocket to study later. He meets Bucky’s eyes. It was that bad, yes, but it doesn’t have to be. Bucky got away. "He wanted to use you to kill people, Buck. He wanted to use that arm to strip people's magic away, for him to use, and then for you to..."</p><p>Steve trails off. Bucky looks sick, and Steve doesn't feel much better. "Fuck," Bucky mutters, looking down at his hand again.</p><p>"But he doesn't have you, Buck, and he won't," Steve says forcefully. "I'm not going to let that happen."</p><p>"But he did this." Bucky looks down at his hand again. Steve reaches out, and Bucky jerks back. "Don't touch it, Steve, fuck. What if it strips <i>your</i> magic? What if I hurt you?"</p><p>"No, Bucky," Steve protests, on the strength of nothing more than him wanting it not to be true. </p><p>"I couldn't stand it if I hurt you," Bucky whispers. Steve personally can't stand the look on Bucky’s face. </p><p>"We'll figure this out," Steve says, and he wants nothing more than to pull Bucky into his arms, even though they just established that he can't do that right now.</p><p>A distant shout, a man's voice, makes them both turn. "Time to get moving again," Bucky says grimly, and pushes them deeper into the forest. </p><p>As they walk, though, some of what Bucky said about the arm disrupting magic teases at Steve's thoughts. Something about Bucky's new ability, and about his own...</p><p>"They're getting closer," Bucky says, head tipped to the side, listening. “I’m not sure how much further I can go. You should leave me.”</p><p>“Not going to happen,” Steve says firmly. </p><p>“I’m just going to slow you down,” Bucky says, frustrated. “Listen.”</p><p>Steve listens, like Bucky said to; the calls between the men are getting louder, and while they're not close enough to hear the breaking of branches as they push through the trees, Steve doesn't doubt they'll hear that all too soon.</p><p>Steve's half-formed idea comes together. It's not a good idea. It's probably a stupid idea, but it's the only one he's got.</p><p>"Bucky," he says, "I've got a stupid idea."</p><p>Bucky looks back over his shoulder, eyebrow lifted and a grin curving his mouth. His eyes have a familiar challenge in them. "All right. Let's hear it."</p><p>"What if I take the shield off my magic—like our first time in the forest. What if I tried to glow my brightest? What if I draw every hellpig in the woods to us, and then when they're there, I shield and we get out of the way."</p><p>Bucky looks surprised for a minute, and then his grin turns into something more serious. "Either they fight with the hellpigs until they retreat, or the hellpigs kill them. Are you comfortable with that?"</p><p>Steve's quiet for a minute, turning it over in his mind. But he already knows the answer; he knew when he suggested it that he was talking about possibly condemning these men to death. And maybe some of them are willing accomplices, but some of them might not be—some of them might just be regular people in service to a bad man. Pierce and Zola—he feels no compunction about their deaths. They forced Wanda and Natasha to do terrible things, and they would've done that to Bucky too. Hell, they'll still do that to Bucky, and to Steve too, if they come out on top of all of this.</p><p>"If it happens, it happens," Steve says slowly. "I don't know about the guards, but I feel better in a world without Zola and Pierce in it."</p><p>"Good," Bucky says. "All right. Do it."</p><p>It feels strange, after all this time trying to learn to keep his shields up even when he's not paying attention to reach into himself and deliberately let them down. But it's the same kind of feeling that it was to shove the shield away from him when he was trying to intercept Zola, so he tries to think of it that way. He doesn't know what he's doing, and none of the visualization that Joseph tried to teach him ever really worked for him, but he tries to picture the energy, and instead of thinking of it the way Joseph described, he pictures ink spilling on a page, lines drawn by his pen, the pattern precise and deliberate. He pictures a conflagration, inked in yellows, red, and orange, and he tries to send the energy of his body into it, the way he would send ink into a line.</p><p>"Steve," Bucky says. He sounds breathless. Steve opens his eyes, and the first thing he notices is the light on Bucky's face, picking out the angle of his jaw, the sweep of his cheekbone.</p><p>Then, Steve realizes that the light is coming from him.</p><p>"Holy shit, it worked."</p><p>"What were you trying to do?" Bucky still sounds a little breathless, but now he mostly sounds amused.</p><p>"Trying to set up the tastiest beacon a little hellpig has ever thought of." Steve smiles at Bucky, and the two of them start moving again.</p><p>At one point, they cross a creek, and Bucky leans down to scoop great handfuls of cold, clear water into his mouth. Steve does the same, suddenly thirsty at the sight and smell of the water.They keep moving after that, deeper into the forest, trying to draw Pierce and his men and away from the safety of the shallows; trying to give their friends time to bring them help. Steve doesn't like to think what will happen to them if Pierce captures them.  He thinks that he, like Natasha and Wanda, is valuable to them, but he worries that Zola's anger at Bucky might outweigh whatever desire he has to keep him as a weapon. Steve's afraid of what Zola might do to Bucky.</p><p>He stops walking, takes Bucky's hand—the right one. Bucky stops, and looks back over his shoulder at him, eyebrow raised in a silent question. Steve pulls him closer, leans in to kiss him. Bucky is clearly surprised at first, but even though they need to keep moving because they might not have much time, he kisses him back. Maybe he too is thinking about what could happen if their hasty plans come to nothing. Steve doesn't draw it out too long; it's not passion that he's feeling, but tenderness, and he tries to imprint that on to Bucky's skin as best he can.</p><p>"I love you," Steve says. "I hope we have all the time in the world, the two of us, but whatever happens—I love you."</p><p>Bucky's eyes soften. "I love you. Spirits, I don't know how I went this long without saying it. Fuck, I love you, too." Bucky leans forward, takes Steve's chin in his right hand. "Let's just get through this."</p><p>They break apart, and then they both turn, heads over shoulders at the trail behind them. That's not just a voice calling to other people; that's Pierce, talking to his men.</p><p>"Let's go," Bucky says, all business again. Steve nods and turns to follow him.</p><p>Steve isn't sure if he recognizes this twist in the stream, this cliff face in front of them, but he knows that Bucky does. A shout echoes behind them, and Bucky turns to face him.</p><p>"This isn't the best spot—I’d hoped we’d get deeper into the forest—but for what it's worth… We can make a stand here." Bucky leans against a tree. His face looks pale and drawn. “Whatever Wanda did to me must be fading. I don’t know how much further I can go.”</p><p>“Then this is where we do it.” </p><p>“Hold on, let me see if I can get us an escape route." Bucky pulls Steve's face and for a quick, rough kiss, and then he launches himself at a tree.</p><p>"What the fuck, Bucky," Steve says. The tree branches here are not nearly as big as the ones they'd spent the night in, but Bucky is hooking his hands around crooks in the branches and fungus, and pulling himself up into a knot of vines. </p><p>"I know, Steve, I'm sorry." Bucky yanks at the  tangle of vines in frustration, and jumps off the branch he was standing on, pulling the vines after him. "This isn't perfect, but if what you're doing works, if there are hellpigs chasing us—" He yanks at a vine with his left arm, and a knot seems to come undone. Steve and Bucky both stare at his left hand, a rainbow of shades of black glinting across it. Bucky turns his head and looks Steve straight in the face. He looks… He looks terrified. He looks like he thinks he's a monster, and Steve can't stand that.</p><p>"Good," Steve says. "Good. You've secured a getaway. Thank you."</p><p>"Ha," Bucky snorts. "I see what you're doing. You don't have to make me feel better about this."</p><p>"I'm not. It's not—" Steve breaks off, lets out a frustrated sigh. "Buck, I don't know what that arm was meant to do. I don't know what it's capable of. But it doesn't matter. You and I—we're on the same team. That's all I care about."</p><p>Bucky turns to stare at him, and Steve sees something open, something vulnerable in his eyes, even though his jaw is just as set as ever.</p><p>"I just don't want to—I just can't stand the thought of hurting you," Bucky says, finally. "And I can't stand the thought of being without you, either. So if what Zola's done is turned me into someone who hurts you, I don't know what the fuck I'll do."</p><p>Steve can't take  that uncertainty, that sorrow on Bucky's face, in Bucky's voice.</p><p>"I don't give a shit about that," Steve says. "The only thing you could do to hurt me is leave me."</p><p>"That's just factually not true, Steven," Bucky says, and for the first time, probably, since they've been in the woods, Bucky holds his left hand out. "They've turned me into a weapon I don't know how to use. I don't want to use it on you."</p><p>"Bucky," Steve says, and once again tries to reach out to touch that hand. Bucky jerks it away.</p><p>"You said Wanda used her magic to look at your arm, right?" Steve asks. "Did you hurt her?"</p><p>Bucky stops, visibly considering. "No."</p><p>"The compulsions—did they immediately break when you touch them?"</p><p>"No," Bucky says, more slowly.</p><p>"Even Zola's spell that was on your legs—it didn't seem to start coming apart until you started working on it with intent."</p><p>Bucky looks down at his hand. Colors ripple across it. Steve finds himself wishing for paper and a set of inks to try and draw it. He would need to mix the most subtle colors. He doesn't think Bucky would appreciate him telling him that it's beautiful, so he doesn't. Not yet. But, it is.</p><p>"Maybe you're right," Bucky says. "A lot of what you say is true. But I can't risk it, not with you."</p><p>"When this is over, then," Steve says gently. "We'll get Becca, and Joseph, and whoever else you want to look at it. We'll get this figured out."</p><p>"For now…" Bucky tugs on the mass of vines, pulling some down and starts knotting them together. "We’ve  got an escape ladder up this tree if all those hellpigs show up and want to eat us. You have a knife?" Steve taps his belt knife in answer.</p><p>"Good, because they took mine," Bucky says. "We get up there, we cut the vines behind us, and fuck Pierce and Zola. They can get what's coming to them."</p><p>Steve unclips the knife sheath from his belt and hands Bucky the knife. "Here, you take this."</p><p>"What are you doing?" Bucky doesn't take it, and Steve shakes it at him, slightly exasperated. </p><p>"You're the one who knows how to fight, not me, so it makes sense for you to have it."</p><p>Bucky looks at him, then takes the knife after all, with a muttered thanks, and turns back to the tree and the vines.</p><p>Bucky works until he has a makeshift ladder, while Steve just focuses on sending his energy out into the world. It doesn't take long before the occasional shout turns into an ongoing yelled conversation, and now they do hear movement: crashing brush, snapping twigs, people getting closer.</p><p>Bucky looks pale, his jaw tight, his eyes narrowed and tense as he scans the forest behind them/the way they came. Steve is nervous too, anticipation thrumming through his veins, but he feels strangely calm as well, ready for whatever is coming.</p><p>It's still a shock somehow when Pierce comes into view, along with his men and Zola, and Bucky turns to face them.</p><p>Steve leans against the tree. Bucky stands next to him in a deceptively relaxed stance, knife in hand, ready for what comes next.</p><p>"You would have made this a lot easier on yourself if you had just come with us in the first place," Pierce says conversationally.</p><p>"Why on earth would you think people want to do that," Steve replies.</p><p>Zola squints at him. "You're lit up like the sun, you know that?"</p><p>"This is how it is when I'm in the forest," Steve says, wrinkling his brow. Zola's eyes light up with undisguised greed, and Steve can practically see him thinking through whatever horrible thing it is he wants to do to him.</p><p>"I can teach you control," Zola says. "All that power has so much potential, but if you can't control it, it's useless." </p><p>"Thanks," Steve says dryly. "I'll take my chances."</p><p>In the distance, there’s a muffled squealing sound. Bucky turns to the side, tracking the sound, and some of the guardsmen look that way also. Everyone's heard stories of the forest, and Steve imagines that Pierce is trying to make conquering the forest sounds like a desirable plan, but he must have also told the men about the horrors of the forest, and if they listened when he said they could conquer it, it looks like they also listened when he said there were terrors there. </p><p>"It's not safe here," Pierce says, "not even for someone like you."</p><p>"Or you," Zola says sharply to Bucky. "Don't think my gift will protect you here. You haven't even begun to learn what you can do."</p><p>"That's fine. I don't want to learn, not from you." Bucky's hand is white-knuckled around the knife, and left hand is clenched into a fist.</p><p>Zola stares at it avidly. "Did it feel good, to destroy my work? Did it make you feel powerful?"<br/>
Bucky doesn't say anything. Steve can see sweat beading on his forehead.</p><p>"Perhaps you'll learn," Zola says quietly. He reaches into his pocket, and pulls out what looks like a pendant made of glass and metal, and Steve doesn't know what it is, but Bucky goes even paler when he sees it, so he knows it isn't good. "When you destroyed my compulsions, you took power from me," Zola says chidingly. "I'm going to take it back."</p><p>Zola points the thing at Bucky, and red energy snakes out from it, going straight from the thing to Bucky's arm. Bucky looks petrified, but he stands his ground, and Steve realizes that he just can't let that red energy touch Bucky. </p><p>Steve forms the power he's just been releasing into the air into the shield, but instead of trying to contain his own magic, he throws it at Zola, just like he did before, keeping his energy from touching Bucky. The red tendrils curl back, searching but confused, it seems to Steve, and Zola hisses his frustration. The power around Steve glows even brighter, shooting up into the sky. Zola regroups, aiming the pendant at Bucky again, as the shield of Steve's power returns to him, and then everything happens at once.</p><p>Zola gets the pendant pointed at Bucky again, and the red power whips at him, lasso-quick. Steve takes a step forward, but there's a rumbling sound, one that Steve fears is very similar to dozens of enormous cloven hooves pounding through the woods, followed by what sounds like the crack of a tree trunk. Steve starts to consider that maybe his stupid idea was actually terrifyingly, wretchedly stupid, that it will end in death not only for Pierce and Zola, but for Steve and Bucky as well. He keeps moving toward Bucky, though, because that's what he does when he's not sure what to do—moves toward Bucky.</p><p>Bucky panics for a moment as the red energy touches him—Steve can see it in his face—but unlike the last time Zola had his magic entrapping Bucky, this time, the panic only lasts a few seconds, and then he's clawing at the energy with his left arm, tangling it in his fist. Steve thinks he could break it, if he wanted to, but instead, he uses it to pull himself toward Zola. Zola looks like he doesn't know what to make of this development, and Pierce is urging his men forward to intercept Bucky and Steve, but at that moment, there's an enormous cracking sound, and a tree easily as big as two men around goes crashing into the clearing.</p><p>Something snorts.</p><p>All of them stop where they are, Steve and Bucky, Pierce's men, Pierce, Zola—they all stop and turn, and when Steve sees what he's summoned, his heart drops into his stomach. Steve hastily pulls his shield back into place, letting his light be covered up. Not that he thinks it will particularly protect him from this.</p><p>Beady black eyes look down at them, from far above them, blinking through the gap in the trees. Steve almost can't process what he's seeing—this creature is so huge that the hellpigs around it look like piglets cavorting around a sow. She's the size of a two-storey house, at least, and her curved tusks are probably as tall as Steve. There are vines and moss trailing from her immense sides, tangled in long, coarse hair. She steps forward, and the other, smaller hellpigs come with her. She’s so big—Bucky's vines won't save them; she can just knock the tree down, if she likes. </p><p>Steve makes himself keep looking up to take her in. There are broken spears sticking out of her shoulder, the wood weathered and worn smooth with time, her hide long-since healed over. She bows her head and huffs a hot breath, nostrils flaring. Steve's caught between fear and awe, knowing that she could destroy him—knowing that he called to her, wherever she was, deep in the woods, and she came to him, even if what she wants is to consume him.</p><p>Pierce's hoarse cry breaks the spell that Steve had half-fallen into at the sight of the enormous hellpig. He rallies his men, trying to get them to face off against the hellpigs, but they seem hesitant, and Steve doesn't blame them.  Zola is the only one who seems to be able to respond. He turns his attention from Bucky to the giant hellpig, yelling something that doesn't seem to be in any language Steve knows. Red wreaths his hands, and he makes a throwing gesture toward the giant sow. Red light streaks toward the animal, like slow lightning, and Steve thinks frantically that it was the wrong move—she wasn't attacking yet, just watching, but this will be what tips the stillness into chaos and action. </p><p>The magic hits the sow, and she rears back, squealing, the smaller hellpigs scurrying around her hooves like a school of fish. The smell of burned hair and scorched flesh fills the air, and her eyes roll wildly, looking for the source of her pain.</p><p>"You fucking idiot," Steve hears Bucky say, distantly, and then Bucky's moving toward Zola, and Steve is running after Bucky, but also just trying to get out of the way, because the hellpig is charging forward with all her smaller cohort at her heels.</p><p>"Swords out! Form a wall!" Pierce yells at his men, but most of them are too busy running from the hellpig to put his plan into action. Steve doesn't blame them—they have trained to fight men, not pigs the size of a house, and he wouldn't want to try to form a spear wall without spears, either. Loyalty outweighs self-preservation for four of them, though, and they form a barrier between Pierce and the sow.</p><p>"My lord, to me," Zola calls. He's changed tacks now, pulling that red energy to him in a bubble around him—a shield, Steve realizes, not unlike his own; except that instead of keeping Zola's magic in, this is meant to provide a physical barrier to protect against the pig.</p><p>Zola frowns at his shield, then takes out the pendant he'd held before and points it at Bucky. Steve doesn't have to know much about magic to see the link that it forms with Bucky's arm, to see it pulling magic out of Bucky and into Zola.</p><p>Bucky had already been moving toward Zola, but now it seems like he's fighting his way through quicksand as he tries to navigate Zola’s magic. His steps slow, and his muscles strain as though every step is an effort. The hellpig is focused on the men around Pierce—no, Steve thinks, somehow she’s focused on <i>Pierce</i>—as Pierce backs away toward Zola, but at any moment, her focus could shift, and she might turn toward Bucky. Would he be able to get away, moving as slowly as he is? Steve doesn't think so.</p><p>Steve redoubles his effort to get to Bucky, but Bucky gets to Zola first. Zola turns on him, getting the wall of red energy between himself and Bucky, wide-eyed, maybe surprised at the fact that Bucky made it so far, or that he's defying him at all. Zola pours more energy into the shield, and it brightens, as does the link between the pendant and Bucky's arm, but Bucky doesn't let it stop him. He pushes forward with his left arm, and Zola's eyes go even wider behind his spectacles as Bucky's arm doesn't stop at the barrier but pushes through, fingers hooking into claws that rip the red energy into shreds. Zola staggers back, turns to try to flee.</p><p>Steve's not going to let that happen. He crosses the distance between them and takes Zola by the shoulders. Zola turns to look over his shoulder, but Bucky grabs his collar and yanks his attention back to himself. Bucky's eyes are red-rimmed, and his face pale and stubbled, his hair falling around his face in a sweaty tangle. Steve thinks he's the most beautiful man he ever saw, but even he has to admit that Bucky looks dangerous right now, rough and on the edge of violence. His left hand comes forward, through the dissipating wisps of Zola's magic, and Zola tries to shy away, but Steve won't let him flee. He braces himself to hold Zola still to let Bucky take whatever revenge he wants to, but Bucky only reaches into Zola's pocket and extracts the pendant-thing. He holds it up, seems to make sure that Zola's attention is on him, then crushes the thing to powder in his hand. Shards of glass and metal slide out from between his fingers, and red energy wreaths his fingers, before it seems to be sucked into his hand. Colors swirl over his skin, and the red lines glow brighter. Steve can only see the edge of Zola's face, but he flinches away from Bucky like he's terrified. </p><p>It doesn't bring Bucky any satisfaction—his expression twists into something bitter. Steve wants to pull him close and kiss him until that expression is gone from his face, but that will have to wait—the giant hellpig has scattered Pierce's defenders, and Pierce himself is down.</p><p>Stev would have to be a lot faster than he is to get there in time to save him from his fate; and then, he has no great interest in saving him from his fate.</p><p>The great sow turns her head from side to side, scenting the air as though looking for something, but her children have no such compunction, and Steve sees Pierce fall beneath their hooves. He's seen the churned mud in the pen where the Barnes family keeps their pigs after they rush in for their feed; he looks away so as not to see the mud turn red.</p><p>Zola slips out of Steve's grasp while Steve is distracted. He slides to the side and conjures up a spell, red energy running down his arms. The sow's head swivels towards him, nostrils flaring. There's a sound like thunder in the distance, and Steve realizes she's growling. Zola cocks back his hand, ready to throw whatever it is at her, but Bucky grabs his arm with his left hand, and Steve sees him suck away whatever spell Zola was summoning, taking the magic and turning it to something else in his hand. Zola lets out a frustrated screech, and tries to punch Bucky, but Bucky dodges the blow easily. Zola tries again, and Bucky thwarts him again, and Steve sees a glint of metal in Zola's hand. He doesn't stop to think, just acts, ramming Zola with his shoulder.</p><p>The knife falls out of Zola's hand and Bucky laughs when he sees it—wild, relieved laughter, that cuts off as the enormous hellpig walks closer. Steve can feel every vibration of her hooves on the ground as she walks, and he catches Bucky's eye as she gets closer. He doesn't think they can escape  this; there's no time to get away from the queen boar, and her children are coming closer also, hooves wet with Pierce's blood. They're cut off from the vine ladder that Bucky made when they thought they might have some modicum of control over this encounter—and maybe if it had been only ordinary hellpigs, that plan might have worked. But neither of them could possibly have anticipated this.</p><p>Bucky lets go of Zola and scrambles to Steve's side. Steve sees him visibly hesitate, and then he wraps both arms around Steve. Steve relaxes into him, grateful that he is touching him with both hands, grateful that he's touching him at all. He grabs Bucky's left hand in his own and pulls it up to mouth level so he can drop a kiss on it. The tight look around Bucky's eyes softens, and they cling to each other.</p><p>Zola scrabbles back, away from them, but the smaller hellpigs are circling them now, and he doesn't get far. The queen hellpig approaches, her snout moving from side to side, snuffling her way across the clearing she made when she knocked over the tree. Her smell is strong and animal-rank in the air, like a barnyard intensified immeasurably. Her breath is hot on Steve's skin, and he closes his eyes and holds on to Bucky, waiting for whatever happens next to happen—the slice of sharp hooves into their vulnerable skin, the thud of heavy tusks to crush them—</p><p>But none of it happens. Instead, Steve feels coarse whiskers brush across the skin of his face, hears a soft whuff next to his ear, far gentler a sound than he would expect from an animal of that size, and then her shuddering steps moving...past them?</p><p>Steve opens his eyes.</p><p>Giant cloven hooves are moving past them, legs the size of tree trunks. Zola scrambles backwards trying to get away. Magic zips through the air around him as he tries spell after spell against the sow, but she shakes them off, coming on as unstoppably as winter. Old leather wraps around one of her legs, some kind of harness with dull metal on it, tattered and tarnished by the passage of more years than Steve could possibly calculate. </p><p>He doesn't understand what it is until she's moving past them and the light catches on the metal. It's a swordbelt, or a chest harness, perhaps, armor older than any he's ever seen before. He only recognizes it from the sigil embossed on the metal—a sign he's seen only in the manuscripts Pierce brought him to transcribe: the six-tentacled hydra, the sign of the Red Skull.</p><p>Steve’s jaw drops. He guesses he knows what happened to the Red Skull, lost to the forest—he had run across the mother of the hellpigs, and not survived the meeting.</p><p>The hellpig snorts in the tendrils of magic that surround Zola. The giant pig seems to contemplate Zola for a long moment. Steve can't even begin to imagine what was going through her head, how she thought, or what connection she might be making between the Zola of now and the Red Skull of the past, who had done—whatever he had done to her.</p><p>Zola babbles out a string of words in a language that Steve doesn't understand. In his arms, Bucky shakes his head as though something about what Zola's saying stings him. The pig contemplates Zola a moment longer, then lifts her hoof and brings it down hard. Zola's words abruptly cut off. </p><p>The pig turns her great head towards Steve and Bucky, but makes no move towards them. They stay that way for a long moment, caught in a frozen tableau.</p><p>Until a voice comes from above them. "Holy shit, what did you do?"</p><p>Steve looks up. Sam, Clint, and Natasha are all gathered on a branch not too high above them. Joseph is with them, Steve realizes, distantly startled that they found them.</p><p>"You have brought out one of the elders of the forest," Joseph says, surprise coloring his voice.<br/>
The giant hellpig looks up, tracking the sound of his voice.</p><p>Steve feels like he's not quite sure he dares to say anything, but he raises a hand and waves at their friends.</p><p>"How do we get out of this?" Bucky murmurs.</p><p>"I don't know," Steve whispers back.</p><p>"You brought her out of the deep woods, you need to lead her back," Joseph calls.</p><p>"I'd love to know how," Steve says in a half-strangled whisper-shout.</p><p>"I think I can help," Sam calls, and signals Redwing to flutter down to a lower branch.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>Once again, Bucky is seated on Redwing with Sam, soaring over the woods he's walked through so many times. But this time, Steve is with him, seated behind Sam and in front of Bucky, Bucky's arms around him, holding him up, while he lowers his shield and radiates power to the best of his abilities.<p>Steve had worried that the three of them would be too heavy for Redwing, but Sam had laughed off his concern. "She's carried more than this, and farther," he said, scratching through the feathers along her eye ridges affectionately. It had been after the delicate, tedious dance of letting Redwing fly lower and lower, branch by branch, moment by moment,</p><p>The giant boar had watched, impassively, but Bucky had got the feeling that maybe she was laughing at them too, in her own way.</p><p>And now, she is following them, the smaller hellpigs—and when had he started thinking of them as smaller? He would never be able to look at them the same way again—trailing her, and birds and smaller animals crashing out of the trees as they pass.</p><p>It feels just as miraculous to Bucky as it did the first time, only even better this time. Steve is with him, and one of the wonders of the deep forest is following them, a creature that Bucky could never have imagined, and never dreamed of seeing. It's a more magical sight than he could ever have hoped to see. </p><p>He doesn't want to think that he's insensitive to death or pain, but when he thinks of Pierce and Zola, dead and—well, not buried, not exactly—dead and gone, he feels nothing but numb, and maybe a little satisfied they're gone. That they met the same end as their idol, the Red Skull? Maybe proof that fate does exist. </p><p>Perhaps he'll have more of a reaction later. Steve's worried about him—he keeps casting little looks over his shoulder when he thinks Bucky's not paying attention. He tried to argue that Bucky should stay back, let Joseph take a look at his arm and make sure he was okay, but Bucky had shot that down, thank you. If Steve thinks he's going into the deep woods without Bucky—even on Redwing, even with Sam—he's got another think coming.</p><p>Redwing sets a steady pace, flying deeper and deeper over the forest. She doesn't fly too fast, but goes from tree to tree, letting the hellpig follow. But the hellpig sets a deceptively steady pace herself, and despite the fact that they are flying from tree to tree, Steve a beacon for the pig to follow, they cover a lot of ground.</p><p>The smaller hellpigs peel off as they go deeper, returning to familiar haunts, Bucky supposes. In the end, it's only them, and the enormous sow, making their way into parts unknown—unknown to Bucky, at least. He keeps his arms around Steve, hands clenched into fists around the leather straps on Redwing's saddle. It's a very comfortable way to travel, and the delight he feels adds flying is unchanged from his previous trip. </p><p>The trees are enormous now, so big that Redwing could be any ordinary bird flying from tree to tree, and the scale makes Bucky feel tiny and insignificant, a mere speck against the landscape. The sow stops, raises her head and even from above, Bucky sees her head swing from side to side, and he can imagine—all too well—those enormous nostrils flaring, taking in the scent. She lets out a bellow that shakes the leaves on the trees around them, a loud and resonant sound that echoes throughout the deeper woods. And then, although they have not moved, she strides forward, moving back into the deep woods that are, Bucky presumes, her home.</p><p>Steve shields himself, and the glow pouring off him dims.</p><p>"We did it," he says, voice wondering, and Bucky knows that he's not just talking about getting the pig back to the deep woods.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>It's not, of course, the end of things. Bucky hadn't expected that it would be. There are a lot of loose ends, and Bucky decides that it's a good thing he didn't expect things to just go back to how they were, because how they were is another place and another time, and Bucky realizes he's left it forever, a country that can never be revisited. Not that it's a bad thing; just that it's different.<p>Redwing flies them back to the people's village, a slow, steady, and leisurely flight. This time, Bucky doesn't have to worry about the hellpigs, or Steve's shields, or anything besides looking his fill at the wonders around them. So he does, craning his neck to try and see everything. Steve looks with him, their hands linked not for safety, just because it feels good.</p><p>When they get back to the village, Redwing takes a long, slow circle above it before descending. The familiarity of it makes Bucky's heart thump—Steve could said he doesn't want to move here, but Bucky thinks, surprising himself, that if he wanted to, Bucky could come to think of this as home, also.</p><p>It's a comforting thought—that wherever Steve ends up, Bucky could end up there too. Bucky can make a home with Steve, even if it's not a home he ever envisioned before.</p><p>There's another surprise waiting for them when they land. Bucky slides to the ground, his legs trembling a little, from excitement, or just having been clamped around Redwing’s broad back, he's not sure. Many of the people are gathered, waiting for them, and Bucky is so shocked to see a familiar figure amongst them for a moment, that he almost doesn't believe that it's real.</p><p>"Becca?" he says hesitantly, and is shocked and delighted when she comes running to him and throws her arms around him. So much so that he doesn't even think to pull back his left arm and spare her its touch.</p><p>"Bucky," she says, and brings her hands up to frame his face. "I was so worried. I didn't know what was happening to you. I'm so glad you're all right."</p><p>Bucky hugs her, a quick embrace that helps assure him that she's real, that she's here. "How are you here?" he asks. He looks around and sees Maria watching him with a pleased expression on her face. "I thought—"</p><p>"We don't usually invite strangers here," she says. “But maybe what we usually do could use some revising. "</p><p>"Revising?" Bucky isn't sure what she means.</p><p>"Your sister had a group of magic users ready to take on Lord Pierce. To save you, but on our behalf, also. We can admit when we're wrong."</p><p>"You're obviously not completely wrong," Bucky mutters. "Pierce and Zola were going to—"</p><p>"They were going to try," she says. Her lips curl up into a smile. "They wouldn't have gotten very far."</p><p>And then Joseph is there, pushing through the people to make his way to Steve. "That was incredible," he says. "The sheer amount of power—the potential you have—"</p><p>Steve shifts ueasily. "It wasn't anything more than anyone else would've done."</p><p>"Perhaps," Joseph says. "But not everyone else could have."</p><p>"You know, I think it's just because I learned how to shield so late," Steve says. His arm around Bucky's waist grips a little tighter. "I think maybe I took my shields down so much because I only just learned to put them up."</p><p>"Possibly," Joseph allows. "I would like to study with you further. I want to help you develop your gifts."</p><p>"There will be time to talk about that later," Steve says firmly. "For now, I'd love for you to take a look at Bucky's arm."</p><p>"Bucky's arm?" Becca says sharply, and spends around to examine Bucky more closely. "What's this? Why didn't you tell me about this?"</p><p>"Because I just now saw you?" Bucky says. He hadn't been trying to hide it from her—he hadn't even had the time to think about hiding it from her. "Zola did it," he says reluctantly.</p><p>"I heard you scream," she said softly, and regret pierces him. He would never have wanted her to hear that. In a way, it's another thing that Zola took from him—his choice that Becca wouldn't see him as a victim.</p><p>"Sorry you heard that," he says, and she—more or less gently—punches him on the ribs. "Ow." </p><p>"There's no need to be sorry about that," she says. "None of it was your fault. But let me see it."</p><p>He pushes up his sleeve and holds the arm out to him, feeling shy and reluctant to let her and all the people here see it. It's part of him now, he supposes, but he didn't choose it, and he still doesn't know how to truly control it.</p><p>"Oh, Buck," she says softly, and runs her fingers over it. He feels more than sees soft tendrils of her magic probing it, and he makes himself relax, very deliberately trying not to think of the arm disrupting or consuming her magic in any way. <i>Friendly,</i> he finds himself thinking at his arm. <i>She's friendly.</i></p><p>"I don't think there's anything I can do to turn it back," she says regretfully.</p><p>"I didn't think that you would," he says. "I don't know how he did it, or even what I'm able to do with it."</p><p>"I'll help you with that," Wanda says. Bucky jumps a little—he hadn't realized she was here. "Of anyone, I'm probably the person who knows his magic best, unfortunately." She looks around, her gaze landing on Joseph. "Although I don't know much of healing, and I would appreciate any help that anyone cared to give."</p><p>"Of course I'll help," Joseph says, even before Steve has a chance to glare at him. "I would help even if you weren't my son's spouse."</p><p>Bucky smiles at that; he can't help it. There's that bright side that he was thinking of, that thing that he wouldn't change now that there through this, no matter the suffering or strangeness they had gone through along the way.</p><p>"Are you going to stay here?" Becca asks, her voice small, looking back and forth between Steve and Bucky.</p><p>"You are welcome to stay as long as you need," Maria says, also looking from one of them to the other. "And… the starets have hopes that we wish to discuss with both of you, before you make any decisions. All three of you," she amends, looking at Becca. "Of course you must consider your family as well."</p><p>"Your other family," Joseph says, and it's not quite a question.</p><p>"Our other family," Steve agrees slowly. Joseph smiles, pleased, and Bucky thinks that he'll have to get used to thinking of that—his other family. Not his parents, and not his sisters, but Steve, and the people who care about him. He likes the thought of that.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>*</p>
</div>This council meeting feels different from the last. The people feel friendlier to Steve, more accepting of him and Bucky—or maybe it's just that they accomplished what they set out to do, brought Wanda and Natasha back to the forest, and that's brought them some positive feelings. Or maybe it was Becca, with no actual ties to the forest, summoning up her friends to help defend it that brought about this change in attitude. Or maybe, quite possibly, it's all in Steve's head, anyway, and the people are no more or less friendly than last time.<p>He doesn't know. All he knows is that it feels better to be in front of them with something they want from him, instead of awaiting their judgment on something he wants from them.</p><p>The people arrange themselves, human form and deer, and Steve wonders absently if he'll ever be able to transform like that, go bounding through the forest the way Wanda and Pietro had.</p><p>"Thank you for coming," Fury says, looking gravely around to all of the gathered people. "It's been a happy and tumultuous time. One of our daughters is returned to us, by our newest son, and that is cause for celebration." </p><p>They had already begun celebrating. There had been a feast the night before, an assortment of foods and a gathering of people, from both forest, town, and canopy, and Steve and Bucky had made the acquaintance of the sparkling cider that the people brewed. It had been delicious, and so sweet and refreshing that one barely noticed the alcoholic content. Steve was surprised that he didn't have a headache to match Bucky's, but at least Wanda had seen him suffering over his morning flatbread and juice, and put her hands to his temples, and as far as Steve could tell, wished the pain away. Bucky had perked up, anyway. He'd slept like the dead last night, exhausted from everything that happened, but he had woken looking better rested, the bags under his eyes smaller if not gone, and he's sitting next to Steve now, attentive rather than suffering a sore head, so Steve is grateful.</p><p>"We owe a debt," Fury says, looking Steve square in the eye.</p><p>"There's no debt," Steve says. "We all helped save each other."</p><p>"A debt," Fury says gently, "not for rescuing our friends, for as you say, we all helped rescue each other. But a debt nonetheless, for reminding us that while those of you who dwell outside the forest can be awful, you are just as likely to be kind."</p><p>Steve bites his lip, not sure what to say. It seems like too much to be thanked for not being an asshole.</p><p>"But we want to ask something of you, too. I hope you won't see it in terms of debt, either. For a long time, we've seen the people outside the forest as something to be dreaded, an implacable force like the tide, that could seep in and drown us. And with our history, there are reasons we felt that way—good, valid reasons. And obviously, there are dangers outside the forest. But we travel there anyway, taking what we need, just as you travel here, taking what you need." His eyes rest on Bucky. "Maybe we should try to welcome each other instead of sneaking in to pass each other by. </p><p>"I would like to ask you both, if you will, to intercede with your people on behalf of mine. We want to reach out to your king to set up a way our communities can lives alongside each other better. You, Steve, are uniquely qualified to be an ambassador between the people of the woods and the people outside the forest. Will you do this, for us and for the people who raised you?" </p><p>"I—yes, of course," Steve says, although what he wants to say is that he's terribly unqualified: he only knows one small town out of the entire country, and whatever his bloodline, he knows next to nothing of the forest.  </p><p>"You won't be expected to do this alone," Maria says gently. "You don't carry the weight of the entire forest on your shoulders."</p><p>Maybe not, Steve thinks, but at the moment, it feels like it.</p><p>"What will it entail?" Bucky asks, his face creased with thought.</p><p>"I suppose that depends on what your king says," Fury says. "My hope is that it will start a conversation so we can understand each other a little better."</p><p>In the end, they spend another day at the people's village, not plotting or planning, but just resting. Whatever Zola did to Bucky to make his arm like this, he's still exhausted and recovering, and he sleeps a lot. But the rest of the time, Wanda and Pietro show them around, and if Steve and Bucky have seen it once before, it's still so new that they're happy to see it again—and besides, it's different with Becca there, her wide eyes taking it all in, reminding Steve that this place isn't just new to them, it's a secret that no other human knows of—or, he amends himself, thinking of his mother, that no human knows about and has told, which is really just as big an accomplishment as hiding the existence of the place in the first place.</p><p>At night there's another feast, and all of them laden down with more food than they can possibly eat. Steve and Bucky retreat to the guest quarters, full and a little tipsy, and kiss each other until suddenly they are no longer leisurely making out, but have their hands on each other's cocks, twisting and stroking, bodies pressed against each other, until they spend. It's not just physical desire, though it's certainly that also. But part of it, too, is Steve touching Bucky, reassuring himself that he's here, that their trials the last few days didn't break them—not individually, and not the two of them. That the fragile beginning they've made can last. And if he happens to love the sounds he can wring out of Bucky's body along with his orgasm, if he loves the way he makes him writhe?</p><p>It's a good thing Becca's staying in an entirely different building, is all Steve saying.</p><p>They leave the next morning, their packs and provisions replenished and refilled. Wanda and Pietro offered to escort them, but Sam and Clint said they'd take them home instead, and Steve knew that Bucky, at least, would not want to resist the chance to fly again. He didn't want to miss it either, truth be told, although it doesn't seem to tug at his imagination quite the same way it does Bucky's. Becca clearly is of the same bent as her brother, staring avidly at everything<br/>
they passed.</p><p>"Are those Natasha's people?" she yells when they pass a giant spider web strung between two enormous trees.</p><p>"What are you talking about?" Steve yells back.</p><p>"How do you get anything done being so unobservant?" Becca says with a laugh. "Her people are spiders!"</p><p>It seems all too soon that they are back on the edge of the forest, Clint and Redwing spiraling down to a clearing on the edge of the woods, next to the road. Steve doesn't want them to leave—doesn't want this brief phase of their adventure to be over, even though he knows it's only goodbye for now, not forever.</p><p>But between the lot of them, there are hugs and back slaps and promises to talk soon that are not idle at all—Steve has a mirror of his own now, the frame worked part with antler and part with a design reminiscent of Bucky's arm. Bucky had stared at it for a long time when Wanda gave it to them, but in the end had decided to be flattered, Steve thinks.</p><p>Steve and the two Barnes siblings set out walking along the road toward the Barnes house. It hasn't been more than a few days since Steve walked this way as his smaller self, not knowing what would await him in the forest, what changes would affect him and what treasures he would find. Not least of all the change in his relationship with Bucky.</p><p>Becca's walking a little ahead of them, and Bucky, next to Steve, slips his right hand into Steve's so that their fingers intertwine. Steve glances at him, pleased, but not, at this point, surprised by the action. It's different now, though—or it could be, back in the town they know instead off in the forest where, in a way, they could be freer, at least of the expectations they've built around the many years of their friendship, and the thought of anyone who's known them their entire lives seeing and judging whatever's happening between them</p><p>Bucky's thoughts must be running along similar lines, because he tilts his head toward Steve and says, "Are you okay with telling my parents about us?"</p><p>"Why wouldn't I be?" Steve asks, although his brain immediately supplies all too many reasons why. Including but not limited to his lack of a mastery and sufficient wages, his sudden status as a non-human, the change to his body since he and Bucky went into the woods...</p><p>Bucky barks out a short laugh. "Steve, your face. We don't have to tell them anything if you don't want to." He makes as if to pull his hand away, but Steve only holds it tighter.</p><p>"I want to," he says. "I just had a terrifying flash of all the reasons your parents might not be thrilled about it, but...I do want to."</p><p>Bucky laughs again, a much happier sound. Becca looks over her shoulder, then turns back away, smiling. "They want me to be happy, and you make me happy, so I think it'll be fine. Anyway, they want you to be happy too." Then his smile dims a little, but at least he leaves his hand in Steve's. "And, you know...this is a good thing. I'll be happy to explain you and me to them. I'm less excited about this." He holds up his left arm. </p><p>The thought of him hurting and hesitant over the arm makes Steve's chest ache, a too-tight feeling that seems like it might only be eased by holding Bucky tight to him for a good long while. Forever, maybe.</p><p>In the end, Steve doesn't have time to work himself into too much of a lather, and it turns out the Barnes family is almost more interested in the fact that he's taller than Bucky now than by the fact that they’re together.</p><p>"Oh, finally," Winifred says, clasping her hands together. "You took your time about it."</p><p>Bucky's jaw drops open and Steve can feel the flush rising up on his entire torso.</p><p>"Don't look so shocked," George says consolingly. "We've had a bet on this since you were fifteen."</p><p>"Bucky," Pru says in a small voice, after a lot more good-natured ribbing which Steve isn't sure why he didn't expect, "what happened to your hand?"</p><p>And that changes the tone of the conversation—of course it does. After a lot of explanations that make nearly everyone blink rapidly and sniffle more than usual, George and Winifred break out some of the pear brandy that George saves for special occasions, and pours them all a glass, even the younger girls. They toast Bucky's survival, and they toast Steve's new height and healthy heart, and they toast Steve and Bucky "finally getting their heads out of their asses," as Winifred says, and George takes his son's changed hand in both of his own and cries big tears.</p><p>"What happens next?" Rose asks eventually.</p><p>"If there were ever a situation for the king's justice, this is it," Becca says.</p><p>"The king's justice, all the way out here?" Winifred doesn't scoff, but she sounds disbelieving, and Steve understands why. Even with the old king's court moving in the rituals of long habit, Steve wouldn't necessarily expect a quick resolution for justice, and with the new king still feeling out the reins of his power, who knew how long even the disappearance of a lord might take to investigate?</p><p>"We know what happened to Lord Pierce, and he may or may not care so much about that," Bucky says slowly, "but we know what Pierce was doing, too. I would think that the king's justice might be very interested in the suspicious deaths of his nobles. There must be a lot of outstanding cases for the justice that we could close up."</p><p>"Do you think that he will believe you?" Winifred leans forward, her eyes sharp and focused on her son.</p><p>"Well, there's this as evidence." Bucky lays his left hand flat on the table, and they all look at it, the colors playing over the black surface of the skin.</p><p>"And Wanda and Natasha will be able to tell what they did." Steve shrugs. "They said they'd be willing to talk about it."</p><p>"It will all take time, I imagine," George says, "even with accusations such as those, I can't imagine how much time it will take for the king's justice to even get here, much less hear us out."</p><p>"I bet I can help move it along a little faster.” Becca drums her fingers thoughtfully on the table. . "I'm not influential in my own right, but I do know a lot of people, and one of the witches I know is a minor lord herself. I'll ask her to pass the word along."</p><p>A plan of action settles, the conversation moves on to other things, mostly talk of Steve's father, and what arrangements Steve and Bucky will come to in terms of their living quarters (undecided), and what they're going to do about the forest people's request (send word to the king along with their request for the king's justice.) There are a lot of logistics to work out, but at least they have the basic idea of it, and it's after midnight when Steve and Bucky cram themselves into Bucky's bed.</p><p>"I remember us fitting in here a lot better," Steve says.</p><p>Bucky turns on his side, and pulls Steve tight to his chest. "You were a lot smaller then."</p><p>Steve grumbles, but he doesn't mean it. He's warm and sleepy and full, and tucked under the arm of the person he likes best in the entire world. They have a lot of issues to deal with ahead of them, but there's no one he'd rather face any of it with.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. ten</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>In which justice comes to Trowburne.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>It's two chapters for one today to wrap this story up! This one and then a little epilogue :D</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Steve fully expects the wheels of the king's justice to turn incredibly slowly. They sent a messenger to the capital, and Becca's friend has borne her own message, or so she tells Becca, but a king's days are full, Steve assumes, and they are only a small town on the edge of the kingdom, no matter how much has been happening there of late.</p><p>So Steve doesn't let himself think about it too much. Instead, he throws himself into learning magic from his father, and from Wanda, and from Becca and the seemingly endless line of friends she brings in to help teach them. <i>Them,</i> because he's not the only one learning. Like it or not, Bucky's arm has given him the ability to do magic as well, and while it's a different kind of magic from Steve's, he needs to learn how to use it too, in more than just the instinctive way he's been handling it so far.</p><p>To no one's surprise—or not Steve's, anyway—Bucky proves the more apt student, but then he was always a better scholar then Steve, and, as he says, his motivation to learn is intense. "I'll feel a lot better about touching you if I know I have it under control," he tells Steve, as they spend the nights wrapped around each other, whether in the village or at the Barnes’s house, or in Steve’s little flat in town.</p><p>When Bucky goes into the forest these days, Steve goes with him, and their destination is the people’s village. They both have so much to learn, and while Wanda's experiences outside of the forest don't seem to have totally shut down her desire to venture outside it, Joseph prefers not to come to Trowburne, and Steve and Bucky are happy to visit their friends in the forest.</p><p>The breadth of what Steve needs to learn compared to what Bucky needs to learn means that Bucky also spends a lot of time in the canopy. Natasha seems to have a soft spot for him, as another one of Zola's experiments, and while he hasn't been invited back to the web just yet, but he's told Steve that he thinks maybe, someday, he'll get to go there. He spends a lot of time with Sam, too, in the aerie where the giant birds live, learning how to tend them and helping other riders with their birds, and spending time caring for the fledgling raptors.</p><p>Steve spends some time wrapping up his duties as a scribe, as well, and Ross doesn't seem to know what to do with him now that he's a foot taller and looms over the other man. Steve has the feeling that Ross is surprised to see him back at all. He wonders what Pierce told the other man about his absence; he has the feeling that he's never going to get that mastery, after all.</p><p>It makes him a little sad, but it's not as though he doesn't use the skills he learned there. Joseph tells him over and over again that he's never seen anyone work magic quite the way that Steve does. Steve works best when he pictures writing and drawings, and the only kind of spells he seems to be able to put in an object so far are in written and drawn on paper. </p><p>Every night he gets to eat his evening meal with Bucky, alone or with friends, talk over their days, with perhaps a little good-natured rivalry about who's learning magic more quickly (Bucky, the answer is always Bucky), and at the end of the day, climbs into bed with Bucky. Steve doesn't think he'll ever get tired of learning his familiar body in a new way, knowing him by touch and taste, and by the noises he makes. Both of them discover what the other likes, and what they like together, and the things they try are only bound by their imaginations, and they both have good imaginations. So much is changing, and Steve supposes this is different too, the two of them like this—but the one thing that's been a constant his whole life is a constant now, and that's Bucky being the most important person in all of it.</p><p>All in all, they're falling into the kind of routine that he thinks can last for months or years, however long it takes justice to come to Trowburne, which is why he’s surprised when it's abruptly interrupted less than four weeks in.</p><p>Steve never thought about how a king might come to Trowburne, because the thought had crossed his mind only inasmuch as the thoughts of suddenly waking up a giant, or flying above the forest had crossed his mind—but both of those things had happened now, so maybe royalty coming to visit shouldn’t be too much of a shock.</p><p>But if he'd thought about it, he would've expected the same kind of pomp that Lord Pierce had employed when he was coming from his townhouse in the city to his estate at Trowburne: the servants sent ahead to unpack the noble party's belongings and open up any rooms that had been closed down in their absence; a long string of carriages, bedecked in gilt and livery; a crier maybe, to spread the word of his coming.</p><p>But that's not how the king comes to Trowburne; not this king, anyway.</p><p>Steve and Bucky had stayed at Steve's flat the night before. He's been wrapping up a commission for Ross—the last one he has under contract—and Bucky’d been keeping him company for no other reason than he wanted to. Both of them knew that Pierce's estate hadn't been closed up, the way it would've been had he gone to the capital, so the seneschal and the servants were simply running the place as they saw fit, which is to say, the way they would've been running it anyway.</p><p>Enough people had seen Pierce and his men running into the forest after his daughters and Bucky and Steve and some unidentified men that there was no hiding their involvement in the matter. As well, somehow the entire town seems to know that Steve had gone into the woods, and that was the source of his transformation from small and frail  to large and muscular. He'd had a steady stream of people needing letters written or read to them during his shifts in the guildhalll, so many that Ross was vocally pleased at the business. They all wanted to ask him what had happened, and he had, after consulting with Bucky, decided to tell them more or less the truth. Not about everything, but about enough. And certainly about what Pierce had done to Bucky and Wanda and Natasha. Those things needed to come to light.</p><p>Enough people seem to believe him, or at least to be reserving judgment, that he isn't being called out on his truthfulness. But he's certainly gathering stares wherever he and Bucky go, and he doesn't quite like that.</p><p>"Better get used to it," Bucky had told him the night before. "If we start trying to bring folks around to the people of the forest, I have the feeling we're only going to get more funny looks."</p><p>Steve gets up, dropping a kiss to Bucky's forehead, and pulls the blankets up over the elegant slope of his back. He'd gotten pastries the night before, and he pulls them out of the icebox to warm while he starts the kettle for tea. He's delighted at how familiar these little acts of domesticity are becoming, a regular pattern in their lives. He'll never get tired of it, of doing things for Bucky, as Bucky does things for him, of watching him wake, of the smile that crosses his face when he sees that Steve is there.</p><p>Something's very different today, though, and that's the sound of bells that breaks the peace of the quiet bustle of people getting ready in the morning. Steve recognizes the bells as those of Pierce's estate, and a foreboding feeling settled on him, curdling in his stomach. The last time he'd heard those bells ring, it hadn't been good.</p><p>Bucky stirs, sitting up in the bed. The blanket slides down from his shoulders, revealing one with smooth, tanned skin, and one with a black rainbow smudged across its surface.</p><p>"What is that?" Bucky asks in a mumble.</p><p>"I don't know," Steve says. "Sounds like Pierce’s belltower."</p><p>Bucky frowns and straightens the rest of the way, shedding sleep along with the rest of the blankets. The two of them eat and get dressed quickly. Steve had plans to spend the day working at the scribe hall, while Bucky went back to help at his family home, the two of them to meet there for the evening meal. He has the feeling that all his plans are about to be thrown askew.</p><p>The two of them make their way from Steve's flat to the main street of the town.</p><p>"What's going on?" Steve asks the nearest person, a woman he vaguely recognizes from her fruit stand in the square.</p><p>"The king's justice has come to investigate Lord Pierce's death," she says, breathless with excitement. "You missed the crier, but they put up broadsheets." She points to the wall by the public house, where people usually put up notices, and Steve immediately sees the newest one, the paper a bright white and the ink a crisp, dark black. He can tell even without getting closer that the page has been magicked, probably a spell to keep it from deteriorating, and maybe one to keep people from removing it.</p><p>He and Bucky thank the woman and move closer, examining the notice. It doesn't tell them much more than the woman had—only that the king's justice will be receiving anyone who knows anything about Pierce's fate, starting tomorrow.</p><p>"We need to get in touch with Natasha and Wanda," Bucky murmurs.</p><p>They stop by the scribe hall, where Steve leaves an only slightly apologetic note for Ross, then walk through the town, back towards the forest. Steve waits until they’re free of the town to get out his mirror and reach out to the forest, asking Wanda and Natasha to come to Trowburne.</p><p>The next morning dawns bright and beautiful, but Steve has been awake since predawn turned the sky a pale gray, and he can't appreciate the beauty of it. All he can think is that he hopes the king's justice isn't capricious; he hopes the king's justice will listen.</p><p>Natasha and Wanda arrived in the evening, and took the evening meal with the Barnes family. It was the first time that their two worlds had sat down together to break bread, and Steve can't help but think that if this is an omen of how the two worlds will get along together, everything is going to be fine. But it's not an omen, he knows that, and he's worried that today won't do any good to bring the two sides of the story together, if one of them has no interest in hearing the other. He hasn't been in the position of having to worry about what kings think, except in a very general way. The old king might have sided with Pierce’s views of the forest just because he was a lord—Steve doesn't know much about the powerful and wealthy except that they tend to stick together. But if the new king's justice will only listen, surely the tale of nobles dead by Pierce's hand will at least warrant further investigation. All Steve can do is hope.</p><p>Hope, and try to present their side of things as best he can. The sun is not long up when he, Bucky, Becca, Wanda, Natasha, and Pietro, who wasn't there to bear witness, but had refused to be left behind, begin to make their way down the road through the town to Pierce's former estate.</p><p>Townspeople greet them, taking in Wanda, Natasha, and Pietro with wide eyes. Everyone seems to already know that they're making their way to the estate, but Steve supposes it's not that big a stretch, considering that everyone also seems to know that they were involved with everything. Steve can't tell if people recognize Wanda and Natasha as Pierce's "daughters," but he supposes that too will come out, if it's not already widely known.</p><p>They make their way up to the estate, and it's not so different from the last time they were there. The same majordomo receives them, but this time, he's unable to hide the suppressed excitement when he directs them to the waiting hall, whether at him or Bucky or Becca, or Wanda and Natasha, or just all of them together, Steve doesn't know.</p><p>There are other people there, also waiting, and Steve gets a kind of déjà vu thinking of the last time they were there, although this time he doesn't recognize any clients, and most people seem to have accepted the change in him, or at least recognized it to the point where it's not worth commenting on.</p><p>The majordomo calls them in, jumping them in front of people who have been waiting there longer, but no one looks resentful. This time, the majordomo takes them a different way than they had gone before, and it's not an office that the hallways eventually lead them to, but a wide open room, with a large seat on a dais—it has to be the great hall of the estate.</p><p>There are two young men on the dais, one sprawled over the chair, long limbed and muscular, even taller than Steve if he were to stand up, Steve estimates, his lazy posture belied by the coiled energy that strums through his muscles, even still. He has an open, jovial face, and a long lion's mane of blonde hair. Standing at his shoulder is another tall young man, this one slender, and much paler, dark hair swept back to fall loose around his shoulders. The king, and the king's justice, if Steve were to hazard a guess.</p><p>The majordomo starts to announce them, but the king calls out, "You may approach," and so they do, ignoring the majordomo's obvious displeasure at the breach of protocol.</p><p>The king has a presence to him, and Steve can't tell if it is friendly or not, not to them.</p><p>"Interesting tales we have heard from Trowburne, of late," the king observes. "Tales of a lord vanished into the forest, like the legends of old, and other tales. Tales of dark deeds committed by one who had pledged to serve me, and impossible tales, tales of the forest reaching out in alliance for the first time in memory." He pauses, glancing from one to another of them, and Steve almost wants to say, <i>no, it's not quite like that,</i> but it isn't entirely <i>unlike</i> that either, and he's not sure if he should speak until he's asked to, so he stays quiet. "And at the center of all the tales, the lot of you, apparently. Tell me your names." </p><p>There's a moment of awkward silence, and then Steve figures no one knows who's meant to start, so he just starts talking. "I'm Steve Rogers, and these are Bucky and Becca Barnes, and Natasha, Wanda, and Pietro…" He hesitates, but then—why not? They're here to tell him everything, after all. "Of the forest."</p><p>The tall, thin man behind the king's shoulder raises one arching eyebrow at this. "Of the forest?" he asks carefully.</p><p>"Yes," Steve says. "Natasha and Wanda were held for over a year against their will by Lord Pierce, and forced to commit acts they would not have chosen to. Pietro is Wanda's brother, and we all helped each other escape."</p><p>"Escape," the darker man says. "From Pierce?"</p><p>"You might as well give me the full story," the king says. "I want to know all of it."</p><p>So they tell him. They go back to the beginning—not Steve's beginning, not Pierce and Zola in the scribe hall, but Wanda’s beginning, wandering out of the forest, looking for adventure, and finding far more of it than she wanted when Zola abducted her. And then Natasha's story, a curious spider looking for her friend, only to get caught herself in Zola's web. The two of them, turned into weapons against their will and used for Pierce's ends.</p><p>"You went to the capital?" the tall, thin man—the king's justice, for who else could he be?—asks sharply.</p><p>"Many times," Natasha says grimly. "He had a list of nobles who objected to the policies he wished to advance, both regarding the forest and others, as well. He was patient, and he knew how to deploy us, Wanda to influence people's minds, and myself to remove those who could not be influenced."</p><p>"You have names? Dates?" the king's justice asks.</p><p>"I do," Natasha says. "And when I don't always know the precise date, I can give you the time of year, at least. And...details. I remember all of them. Every one." She swallows hard, and Wanda moves close enough to grip her hand hard, where no one else can see. </p><p>"We will want all of them," the young king says. "But go on." </p><p>So Steve explains how Pierce and Zola came to the scribe hall to ask him, specifically, to go to the woods to find the antler. How Bucky would not let him go alone. How he woke up with the first night, larger and healthier than he had gone to sleep. How they had found, later, that the antler was only ever an excuse to get Steve into the forest and see what happened to him, so Pierce and Zola could control him if he turned out to be magic, just as they had controlled Wanda and Natasha. </p><p>"And there are people in the town who will confirm that you were shorter before?" the king's justice asks.</p><p>"Anyone," Steve says. "Bucky's family has known me since I was a child, and I've worked at the scribe hall for years now."</p><p>"We will ask," the dark-haired man says smoothly. </p><p>Steve goes on, glossing over the details of their time in the woods, only noting that Pietro had asked for their help in finding his sister and Natasha, upon finding the note in Steve's pack.</p><p>The king raises an eyebrow, looking at the two women. "We always hoped to escape," Wanda says. "But the compulsion on both of us kept us from even trying. It had been so long—we hoped that there would be some way of letting our families know that we were still alive."</p><p>"How gratifying that it worked for you," the king's justice says. "Go on."</p><p>Steve picks up with them going to Pierce's estate, and the fight that followed there, how he and the others escaped, but Bucky was captured. He tries to phrase it as delicately as possible, but ends up admitting that Bucky kicked him out the window. The king raises another eyebrow.</p><p>"Zola had you in his captivity," the king's justice observes. "But he was trying to capture Steve?"</p><p>"Yes," Bucky says. His face has gone a little pale, but his voice is steady enough, since they are asking about Steve so far and not yet about what befell him. "Pierce never cared about the antler—those antlers aren't any more magical then any deer's antler. But he knew that Steve's father was from the forest, and he'd seen him turn into a deer, and I guess he wanted to prove that Steve was what he thought he was. He said he was going to make Steve his ward, the way he called Wanda and Natasha his daughters."</p><p>"So what did they want with you?" the king's justice asks.</p><p>Bucky stares down at his hands, the right intertwined around the left. "The same thing he wanted with Wanda and Natasha. And Steve, too. He wanted to make me a weapon. He saw me fight, and he knew that there is magic in my family, so… He thought he could make something of me."</p><p>"An assassin who could break through magical defenses," Natasha says. "It was one thing he always regretted about me—I did not have the magical potential that he wanted for all of his experiments." Bucky's mouth twists, looking at her, and he seems like he wants to say something, but he bites his lip, and is silent.</p><p>"And were his wishes for you realized?" the king's justice asks.</p><p>"I don't know." Bucky flexes his fingers, his left hand drawing into a fist, and holds it out where the king and his justice might look at it. "He achieved at least some of what he wanted, but I don't know enough about what he did to me to say if I’m wielding it correctly. Correctly? As he wanted, let's say."</p><p>"But you have wielded it," the king's justice says, quick as a pouncing cat.</p><p>Bucky straightens up, rolling his shoulders back. He looks like he's bracing to be hit, and Steve aches say something, to do something, to take this burden away from him. But he can't. This is Bucky's to tell, not his, and he knows that Bucky is strong enough. He just wishes he didn't have to be.</p><p>"Natasha and Wanda came to me while I was held as a prisoner." He turns to the side, looking for the woman. They don't do anything as obvious as take a step toward him, but both sets of eyes, emerald green and deep brown, are looking at him, stalwart even though they're not touching him. "They let me out of the room where they found me, and took me to Zola's workroom."</p><p>"He kept his compulsions in his workroom," Natasha says. “It was how he controlled Wanda and me.”</p><p>"I destroyed the compulsions," Bucky says. "That was the first time I used my arm. The second time was on the grounds. We fled, and Zola and Pierce pursued us. He caught my legs up in a web of spell work, and for a moment, I thought I was caught back in the room where he tortured me, but then I saw Steve, and I knew that I was free."</p><p>"And you broke your bonds for love?" the king asks.</p><p>Steve would not dare to shoot such a contemptuous glance at royalty, not unless they made him mad, but Bucky does it regardless.</p><p>"I saw Steve, and knew that I wasn’t in the room where I had been tortured, because as much as I wished that Steve had been there, he wasn't, so when I saw him, I knew that it was real, and not a memory of that place."</p><p>"Ah," The king's justice says. "How did you escape?"</p><p>It's a cacophony of voices then, Bucky, and Steve, and Wanda, and Natasha, Pietro, and Becca, all chiming in with their various perspectives. It paints a chaotic picture, but probably one with more depth than any one viewpoint would offer. They walk the king and his justice through their spur of the moment plan to split up and draw Pierce and Zola deeper into the forest. Steve gets to hear the part he didn't know before—Pietro and Wanda telling their people that they needed to hurry, to run and save the newest member of their people and his husband. They get to hear Natasha, Clint, and Sam going to the canopy, pleading their case to their people; meeting less ardent agreement, more resistance. And Clint, Sam, and Natasha deciding to act on their own anyway. Then they all try to talk through the jumbled moments of that last fight, the people of the forest and the people of the canopy both making their way as quickly as they could, Steve and Bucky trying not to die, Steve summoning the mother of all hellpigs, and Bucky ripping Zola's spells to shreds.</p><p>"Are you telling me," the king asks incredulously, "that the man who killed half my courtiers was in turn trod to death by forest pigs, never to receive justice?"</p><p>"I suppose that's what we're telling you," Bucky says.</p><p>"The forest meting out its own justice, perhaps," the king's justice says.</p><p>"That's more your area than mine, brother," the king says. "It's not that I was particularly looking forward to trying and executing him, but the families of his victims surely deserve the public knowledge of his crimes."</p><p>"Try him anyway, in absentia," the king's justice—brother?—says impatiently. "Make a proclamation, if you like. Have his transgressions read across the land from end to end." His gaze darts to Wanda and Natasha, and then back again. "His crimes against your subjects and the forest should be known."</p><p>The king nods thoughtfully. "And that brings us to the other matter I wish to discuss, I suppose." He paces the length of the dais, then turns and strides back, stops and looks at Steve. "The forest wishes to make an alliance with us?"</p><p>Steve glances at his friends. Wanda and Pietro have small frowns on their faces, and Natasha looks as impassive as ever. "The forest, or at least the communities that we've been in contact with, wish to open lines of communication. Is it an alliance? That remains to be seen."</p><p>The king folds his arms across his chest, but he doesn't look angry. "That would be a greater first step then we have taken before," he says. "And what does the forest propose?"</p><p>"A liaison between the people of the forest and the people outside the forest," Steve says.</p><p>"You, I suppose," the king's brother interjects.</p><p>"Unless you know someone else with ties to both forest and town," Natasha says coolly.</p><p>The king gives her a toothy smile. "Those are few, to be sure. But with this initiative, they would be less so."</p><p>"That's the hope," Steve says.</p><p>"And do you foresee an embassy of sorts?" the king says, his eyes gone a little distant. People of the forest come to visit at court? People other than yourself coming to meet the people of the woods?"</p><p>"It's early yet to think of these things," Steve says. He has no idea if the people of the village will want visitors so near their homes, at least at first, but maybe some sort of meeting place, on the edge of the forest, a neutral ground where friendships might be forged… "I have some ideas."</p><p>"I bet you do," the king's justice says, not quite silently enough not to be heard.</p><p>"You have given us much to think about," the king says. "There will be much to discuss, and many questions to be answered only by time, I suspect." He hops down from the dais, and walks close to them. Steve and Bucky exchange a glance; Steve doesn't know what proper king behavior is, but he feels sure that this is not it.</p><p>"Will you stay a few days?" the king asks. "If you are to be my liaison to the woods, I want to know you a little better. We will all be trusting each other a good deal with this. I had not dreamed of so great a gift, but if we and the people of the forest can learn to see each other as friends instead of threats, what a boon to both of us that will be." He holds out his hand. "You may call me Thor."</p><p>"Brother—" The king's justice sounds exasperated—wearily exasperated, as though it is an emotion he has experienced so often that he utterly fails to be surprised at it.</p><p>"Come now, Loki," the king chides. "Circumstance has brought us together, but it does not require us to be formal."</p><p>And indeed, the king is not formal, Steve comes to realize over the next week. They are not his only concern in coming here—there is the matter of Pierce's estate to be settled, and the investigation into how broad his crimes were—but they are the majority of his reason for being there, and he allots them much of his time.</p><p>Natasha and Wanda give details of all that was done to them and all that they did while they were under Pierce's control. The king's scribes take it down, and Steve watches them work with professional interest but personally—his heart aches for Wanda and Natasha, and for what they were forced to do. </p><p>They are not to blame, not for any of this. But after a week of conversation, Steve comes to realize that the king agrees, and so does his justice. Loki is acerbic, and hard to get to know, but Steve watches the way he talks to Wanda and Natasha and Bucky, and it's clear that he very much has their interests at heart. More than that, he sees with clear eyes the wrong that was done to them, so much so that Steve begins to suspect that he's such a good justice because some wrong was at some point done to him.</p><p>They spend the first night in rooms far grander than any they've stayed in before. Steve and Bucky are given a room together, and no one bats an eye at their claim to be married. Steve would feel a little bad about it, but he certainly doesn't want to stay in this enormous room by himself; he's been thinking that he never wants to stay in any room without Bucky, after all. The next morning, they wake up and break their fast with the king and his brother and their friends. </p><p>The king seems mostly to want, as he said, to get to know them; he asks questions about what life is like in the forest, what life is like for the Barneses, how far along Steve is in his mastery, what it had been like to discover a father in the forest when he had been without one all his life. That last question is awfully personal, Steve thinks, but he looks at Thor's face, and sees lines of grief etched there, no matter how well hidden most of the time, and he remembers that the kingdom lost a king, but Thor and Loki lost a father. So he tries to answer him as best as he can, although he admits that their relationship is more of teacher and pupil than father and son.</p><p>"Well, it would be," Thor murmurs, "you meeting him when you are grown."</p><p>Loki clears his throat delicately. They've long since eaten their breakfast, and had the plates cleared away, and new pots of tea brought out to them when the old ones went cold.</p><p>"We have another task this morning," Loki says quietly.</p><p>"Many of them," Thor mutters, but he leans back and his eyebrows pull forward into a frown. "We found Zola's workshop."</p><p>Loki lip curls up in an expression of clear distaste. "He left many projects, some of which became inert upon his death, but others of which will need to be destroyed. I could do it, and I will if I must, but it will take time and effort." Steve feels his eyebrows rising; he hadn't known that the king's justice was also a magician.</p><p>Loki looks directly at Bucky. "I have some small knowledge of magic. I believe you will be able to very easily pull the fangs of anything Zola has left, and I would like to see your arm in action--I may be able to help you with it."</p><p>Bucky looks surprised, and he blushes. Steve probably shouldn't be thinking about how good that blush looks on him, but now that he started thinking about how pretty Bucky is, he doesn't seem to be able to stop.</p><p>"Of course I'll help," Bucky says.</p><p>It is, Bucky tells Steve that night, immensely cathartic to destroy things that Zola made. Some of them were innocuous, or so Loki had told him, but some of them were the nasty sort of things that Bucky would expect from a monster. And Loki watched him work, talked to him about the way the arm harvests magical energy, no matter how foul, and transmutes it into something cleaner. Bucky had shown him the spells that he'd been learning, and Loki had shown him a few other things.</p><p>"Look, Steve," Bucky says, and holds out his left hand. He's no longer nervous about Steve touching it, and right now he wants him to take it, so Steve does tracing a finger over Bucky's palm. The skin is still a black rainbow of dull jewel tones, but as Steve looks closer, he startles back.</p><p>"It's changing," he says, shocked. Where once the lines crossing the black were red, they're now a dark gold.</p><p>"Every time I use it just for myself, it clears away some of the spells that Zola built into it," Bucky says. His face looks so uncomplicatedly happy, relief written all over his features that this thing he was forced to take is becoming more his own.</p><p>Steve is so overcome with happiness of his own that he can hardly speak. Instead, he lifts Bucky's hand and presses a kiss on to each knuckle.</p><p>It takes them much longer to get to sleep that night.</p><p>Loki endears himself to Steve forever on the third day of their stay.</p><p>"What about you?" Loki asks Bucky while they are discussing ways Thor might reach out to the people of the forest.</p><p>"Me?" Bucky asks, startled.</p><p>"Do you intend to company your husband on all of these ventures? Have you thought of what you will do with the rest of your time?"</p><p>"The same as I've ever done, I suppose," Bucky says uncertainly.</p><p>"There is something else that you might do. There are all manner of cursed objects throughout the land," Loki observes. "Spells gone wrong or intended maliciously from the start. Someone who could take care of them easily and more importantly harmlessly might find himself in high demand."</p><p>Bucky stares at his hand, flexing the fingers as though they're fascinating. Well, Steve can't blame him for that—they are. "Yes," Bucky says. He clears his throat. "Yes, I want to do that.</p><p>"Good," Loki murmurs, a small smile curving his mouth.</p><p>On the fourth day, Thor tells them that he is not giving Pierce's estate to another noble family. "He had no children, and named no heir," Thor says. "The estate and the lands go to the crown, and the crown is giving them it to you."</p><p>"To...us," Steve says, trying to make it sound like a statement instead of the question.</p><p>"Yes." Thor leans back, looking inordinately pleased with himself. "I want you to use it as an embassy of sorts, or a place for people from the forest to guest. A place I might meet with some more of them, someday," he says a little wistfully. He looks at Wanda, Natasha, and Pietro. "Your input here will be particularly valuable. Whatever changes you need to make, what staff you need to hire--you have only to let me know. I want everyone to be welcome here."</p><p>"Thank you," Natasha says, her eyes bright.</p><p>"I am deeding the land, not to any one person," Thor goes on, "but to the forest. Legally, these lands will no longer belong to my kingdom, but to all of you."</p><p>Steve knows he must look as gobsmacked as the rest of them.</p><p>"I can't wait to see what you make of it," Thor adds.</p><p>The last few days are spent discussing logistics, spending time with the new king and his justice, and announcing to the town what the king's plans for it are. The townspeople don't necessarily seem to know what to make of all this, but Steve thinks that they will have time to come to terms with it.</p><p>That's what all this is: a beginning.</p><p>Thor is full of plans, but much of it depends on what the people of the forest want, too, and Bucky and Steve return to the woods with their friends once the king has left to return to the capital, to explain the king's plans to the Council, and hear what they think of it.</p><p>The discussion goes on for days, with some wishing to make a place in the village for people from the forest to stay, and some  talking about an academy where both peoples could exchange knowledge, and some talking about an exchange program of sorts, where young people from both communities could spend time with each other, learning about what's different and what is the same.</p><p>The discussion goes on and nothing is settled immediately, but that Steve thinks, is a beginning, too.</p><p>
  
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<p></p><div class="center">
  <p> <b>art:</b> The head of a white stag, glowing slightly, drawn in abstract triangles <b> art by: </b> the_genderman </p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. epliogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>and they all live happily ever after &lt;3</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the second of two chapters today! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>three years later</b>
</p><p>Steve stretches. His back is stiff from hours of sitting, listening to people talk. It's nothing compared to what he would've experienced before he went into the forest that first time, but it's enough to make him think he ought to stretch really well tonight; if he's going to be sitting on the bird's back for hours tomorrow, better to begin, at least, from a relatively painless starting point. He fidgets on his seat as surreptitiously as he can, but he catches Loki smirking at him and thinks, <i>busted.</i></p><p>He wouldn't have Thor's job for all the world; the king might eat on gold plates and recline on velvet cushions, but more of his job is spent sitting and listening to people complain then Steve had ever imagined. Of course, had his life gone the way he thought it would three years ago, he'd have spent most of his day sitting also—more than he was doing now, anyway. He only has to attend court when he’s in the capital, and only when it pertains to matters of the forest.</p><p>It pertains to matters of the forest much more often now than it had when he first took on this role. It was still early days, but already the people of the forest and the kingdom were seeing more of each other than they ever had before, with festivals intended to get the people knowing more about each other happening twice yearly, as well as individual people reaching out to make contact on their own. It was these kinds of individual requests to come to the forest, or for people from the various forest communities to come into the kingdom, that Steve found himself handling most of the time. It was Steve and Bucky, usually, except when Bucky's services were required elsewhere, and Natasha, who had become a darling of the kingdom after exposing Pierce's crimes—she was popular with the kingdom at large because of what she had endured and the role she had played in exposing Pierce as what he was, and those nobles who might have tried to attack her for her role in the deaths of their loved ones were checked by the king’s obvious approval of her. Wanda would be just as popular, Steve thinks, if she spent more time in the kingdom, but she seems mostly content to stay in the woods, co-running, with Becca, a magical academy open to people from both the kingdom and the forest, trying to unravel the things that were done to her under Zola, and turn that knowledge to the common good, where it can be, and to undoing what it was used for when it can't be. </p><p>Thor's majordomo brings the audience to an end, and Thor's attendants gather around him. Loki catches Steve's eye, and jerks his chin toward the corridor that leads behind the throne. Steve's certainly happy to go talk to Thor and Loki—they're friends, at this point, as much as they are the people he reports to. But he hopes they don't keep him too long today; he's expecting Bucky back tonight. They have a trip planned for tomorrow, and he misses his husband and wants to see him more than he wants to talk policy with his friends.</p><p>He starts making his way through the departing people regardless, and one of the noble ladies catches his elbow. He wants to keep walking, but he stops politely, and waits to hear what she has to say.</p><p>"The curse breaker—he's coming back soon, isn't he?" She looks at him with a strange expression that is somehow both imploring and vaguely condescending. He's gotten used to it.</p><p>"You mean Bucky?"</p><p>"The curse breaker," she repeats impatiently. "Lord Barnes."</p><p>Steve bites back the automatic correction—neither he nor Bucky are lords, regardless of the fact that they are favorites of the king, and in his counsel. Between Pierce's old estates, and the townhouse Thor has set aside for them in the capital, they are more or less landed although still not gentry, and no matter how many times he tries to explain that the estate belongs to the forest, not to him and Bucky, most of the nobles don't seem to want to hear it. He suspects, at least in part, that some of them don't want to think that villagers from the edge of the kingdom could be key advisors to the king, so they prefer to make them nobility like themselves. He doesn't say any of that, though; he can complain about it to Bucky later, as if Bucky hasn't heard it all from him before.</p><p>"He should be back soon," Steve says as patiently as he can.</p><p>"Would you please pass the message—our summer house is cursed. My daughter saw—" She bites her lip, and Steve feels his earlier impatience soften.</p><p>"Of course," he says. "I'm sure he'll be happy to help, although it might be a few weeks before he can." He gets her to repeat her name—along with height, he seems to have picked up a flawless memory—and promises to tell Bucky to contact her. He doesn't know the details, and he doesn't need to know; Bucky will tell him what it's about if he thinks Steve should know. But if the girl has stumbled across cursed ruins, or picked up some kind of malignant artifact, Bucky will be able to free her of it.</p><p><i>Curse breaker.</i> Steve smiles. It's a much more hopeful name then Pierce and Zola must've hoped he'd earn with his arm. </p><p>He continues to make his way through Thor's receiving hall. It's much grander than Pierce's great hall was—now more a meeting place for emissaries from kingdom and forest than a place where any one person sits to hear petitions, and Steve will admit he gets a deep, biting satisfaction from the thought of what Pierce would've made of that. But how quickly he's become accustomed to grandeur, because now his eyes slip over the marble tiles and gilded molding of the hall as though it were commonplace.</p><p>The hallway behind the throne is just as luxurious but much less ostentatious. Panels of golden oak are carved in hunting scenes. There’s a little symbolism and allegory about different districts of the kingdom hidden  in each one, and Steve's glad that his training as a scribe lets him pick up on it. The corridor leads to a sitting room, cozy by the standards of the palace, where Thor and Loki are already waiting, Loki with a glass of wine, and Thor with a flagon of beer.</p><p>"I have something for you," Thor says without preamble, and Steve feels his eyebrows lift. Thor smiles and hands over a leather document folder, of the kind Steve was well acquainted with when he worked in the guildhall.</p><p>"What's this?" Steve asks softly.</p><p>"I believe the best way to find that out would be to open it," Loki says acerbically. Steve breaks the seal with his thumbnail. The wax is a finer quality than any he ever used, and set with little flecks of what looks like real gold. He unwraps the leather strings wrapped around the folder and opens it.</p><p>The parchment within is smooth and evenly stretched, the script written in a master's hand. He reads perhaps half the page before he realizes what it is, and then flips to the end to look at the signatures.</p><p>"Your Majesty," Steve breathes.</p><p>"None of that," Thor chides, and Loki huffs a quiet laugh next to him.</p><p>"It's the deed to Pierce's estate." Steve runs a finger over the document, which grants weight to the work they've been doing for three years now.</p><p>"I keep my promises," Thor says softly. "It belongs to the forest now, and you will and Bucky are its conservators." He looks at Steve, though Steve can hardly tear his gaze away from the parchment in his hand. "The legalities took some time to hammer out."</p><p>Loki snorts. "You mean, it took the council of lords an age to come around to the idea."</p><p>Thor smiles. "Isn't that what I said?"</p><p>"Thank you," Steve says, his heart full. He knows that what he has and Natasha and Bucky have been doing has been important, and he hadn't doubted that Thor and Loki fully supported it, but this document gives them a legal surety they didn't have before if anyone ever challenges their right to it.</p><p>"There are copies in the royal library." Thor taps his fingers against the polished wood of the table. "But I thought you and Bucky deserve to have one of your own own to keep at the estate."</p><p>"Thank you," Steve says again, unable to summon up the proper words to tell Thor what it means to him, even though he knows it means much the same thing to Thor.</p><p>"Stop thanking us," Loki says grumpily. "You're doing us a favor too, you know. A closer tie between the forest in the kingdom has been good for everyone."</p><p>Steve puts the papers carefully back into the document holder and folds the leather strands back into place. They end up drinking a toast—to the forest, to each other, to all their hopes for the future—and then Thor and Loki send Steve away, telling him they know his husband is due to return. He leaves the palace in something of a daze; it's not that he thought that Thor and Loki wouldn't fulfill their promise, and it's not that this will change anything in his and Bucky's day-to-day life, but it's more real, somehow, with the weight of the paper and the king's seal in his hands.</p><p>As always, the majordomo tries to call him a carriage, and as always, Steve waves him away and slightly scandalizes him by choosing to walk the mile or so to his and Bucky's townhouse. It's all right; he and Bucky have scandalized just about everyone in the palace in far worse ways than just by walking through the city. Once he's passed the palace gates, the stately pace of the palace gives way to the busier streets of the city. The streets are busy and bustling, people going about their business, and street vendors hawking food from stalls, shopkeepers with doors open trying to entice people to buy their wares.</p><p>Thor had told Steve that his and Bucky's townhouse was not particularly grand, but Steve certainly finds it so. There's more than enough room for the two of them, and the biggest selling point for them had been the courtyard and the stables around back, which they had been able to convert for their own purposes. Speaking of which—Steve looks up at the former stables.</p><p>As he watches, the tip of an enormous white wing flashes up above the top of the stable roof. Steve smiles; it means that Bucky's home.</p><p>When Steve gets inside, he can Bucky has been home for long enough to tend to his bird, change clothes, and get the meal ready. There's a family that takes care of the house when they're not there, which is most of the time, and looks after things while they're in residence. The Tappers make a meal daily and leave it for Steve and Bucky to reheat as they see fit. Steve thinks it's pretty funny that they think that they can't take care of themselves, but he has to admit when Thor keeps him at the palace late, it's nice to come home and not have to worry about it. Steve jumps up the steps, greeted by the smell of something delicious and Bucky crossing the front hall to greet him.</p><p>"You're home," Steve says inanely as Bucky pulls him into a tight embrace and whispers back, "I missed you." They kiss in the front hall for a long moment, keeping it chaste the way they might not if they were at their home in Trowburne, or their house in the people's village, or Bucky's residence in the aerie, where he learned how to be a falcon rider like Sam. But at any of those places, they're in a home by themselves, not one that they share with the Tappers, so they keep it fit for general consumption, pulling apart when Bucky's stomach rumbles.</p><p>"You must be starving," Steve says.</p><p>Bucky smiles sheepishly. "Well, yes."</p><p>"I am too," Steve says. "Even though mostly what I did was stand around and listen to people talk. Tell me about your trip." </p><p>And Bucky does, over a meal of lamb roasted on top of vegetables. He'd been deep in the forest, this time, gone to see to a place that was said to be haunted.</p><p>"As to whether it was ever really haunted, I couldn't tell you," Bucky says, taking a sip of wine and glancing at his arm. These days, the dull-black jewel tones shine prettily, Steve thinks, the lines between them a bright gold. But then, he never found them as menacing as Bucky himself did. "But there was old magic gone wrong hidden beneath the dirt, poisoning everything that touched it."</p><p>"You took care of it," Steve says with certainty, and Bucky admits that he did, telling Steve about the people who he had helped, some of the squirrel riders who live in the canopy. Bucky clearly enjoyed his time there, and he's full of enthusiasm, gesturing as he describes the butterfly herders and some of the spider people, like Natasha, who lived there. Steve's not as enthusiastic a traveler as Bucky, although he enjoys seeing new places, but he loves listening to Bucky talk about the places he's been and the people he's met.</p><p>The first year after they defeated Pierce, the two of them had spent a lot of time in the forest, and both of them had spent time learning more about magic—Steve from Wanda and Joseph, Bucky more often just with Wanda. Steve was slowly coming to appreciate more about his father, but he would be the first to admit that the man was cold and off-putting, and while his attitude didn't bother Steve that much most of the time, it incensed Bucky to see it directed at Steve. It had taken Steve longer to learn magic, in part because the breadth of what he could do was greater than what Bucky could do, while Bucky's abilities were concentrated by his arm. Bucky had spent a lot of time hanging out with Sam, and when Sam had invited him to come visit in the canopy, Bucky had been eager to see more of the treetops.</p><p>Bucky had gone with him to the aerie where Redwing and the other giant raptors lived, and before Steve knew it, Bucky had come home talking about taking care of the birds, then about riding the birds, then about the eggs that were about to hatch, and becoming a courier like Sam.</p><p>Well, not exactly like Sam; more often than not, Bucky was going deep into the woods to help someone out with a spell gone wrong,  or ancient corrupted magic, or flying messages back between the capital and Trowburne and the forest on his giant snow hawk, White Wolf. (Why a bird was named after a completely different animal, Bucky had never fully explained, but the bird was definitely getting lighter as he aged; his wings and tail were fully tipped with white now where once they had been gray.)</p><p>Steve has learned a greater appreciation for traveling by air. Though he doesn’t think he’ll ever love it the way Bucky does, he trusts Bucky not to let him fall. And he has to admit it makes traveling back and forth from the capital so much faster than it otherwise would have been.</p><p>But tomorrow they aren't going back to Trowburne; tomorrow they're going to a place uncharted by either of them. Sam had told Bucky about a place in the woods, a waterfall by a deep lake, only accessible from the air. Between one thing and another, the two of them had never had a honeymoon—at first, because they hadn't been married, and then, when Steve had accidentally let the fake nature of their relationship slip in front of Thor, because Thor had kept them too busy after their impromptu late-night wedding with Thor as officiant and Loki as witness, because they'd been too busy. But both of them had cleared their schedules to take a week and a half together.</p><p>"Thor asked to see me today," Steve says after Bucky finishes telling him about his trip. Steve pulls the document folder out and passes it across the table. Bucky takes it curiously, and then his eyebrows shoot up and his eyes go wide in surprise. Steve loves that expression on him, the hope and delight written across his face.</p><p>"It was real before," Bucky says softly, "but now it's official."</p><p>Steve laughs, and reaches over the table to take his hand. Just like the two of them, he thinks; real before they were official.</p><p>"Come up to bed with me," he says.</p><p>"Because we need to rest up for our trip tomorrow?" Bucky asks, voice as innocent as he can possibly make it sound—which isn't much.</p><p>"No," Steve says.</p><p>Bucky squeezes Steve's fingers. "Well, in that case..." he says, as he pulls him to his feet and starts for the stairs that lead to their bedroom. </p><p>Steve follows happily, always willing to go wherever, as long as he’s with Bucky. Where they’ve ended up is nowhere he thought they’d be, and although he thinks he can see the future from where they are, he won’t mind if it ends up changing again, as long as they’re together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I can't believe we're finished! Thank you for coming along with me for this ride &lt;3 </p><p>And thank you again to the_genderman and whatthefoucault--I'm so grateful to both of you! </p><p>I am on twitter (and tumblr, though more rarely) as @deisderium &lt;3</p>
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